Dark Power Arising
by Shemyaza1
Summary: Sequel to A Singular Honour. With Eonwe, Kim and others. Please be aware that the story does deviate from canon, this is unavoidable given that it involves modern involvment in ME. There is also a Higher Powers Sense of Humour Alert :P MEFA 2010 Nominee
1. The Prologue

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author Note: **I firstly want to than, in advance, anyone who does chance upon my story, reads it and enjoys it. I want to thank everyone who read A Singular Honour most sincerely. Again I do not expect anyone to review, if they read and enjoy it then I have achieved my aim. However all comments made whether critical or approving will be welcome, as long as the criticism is constructive.

The tale of Eonwe and Kim and their child, Almare (known as Allie by her family) is continued in this tale against the backdrop of modern Middle-earth. It's a story of new beginnings, ancient and some new adversaries, searches, joys and closures for some and also some new characters, into which the continuing story of the Herald and his lady is woven. I hope that it proves to be an enjoyable and believable tale.

"Seems like I've been here before, can't remember when  
I get this funny feeling, we'll be together again;  
No straight lines make up my life, all my roads have bends;  
No clearcut beginnings; so far, no dead ends."

**--Tom Chapin ("Circles") **

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 1 – The Prologue**

**Eldamar, circa present day**

He had been here in his dreams...nay rather call them nightmares... before, many, many times in fact, but only once in reality yet the remembrances had never been so intense and so...so real.

Careful not to disturb his sleeping wife, he swung his legs over the side of the low sleeping couch. The silken covers on his side were all bunched down at the bottom of the bed indicating his thrashing movements during sleep and his wife had tucked her portion around her so that she lay in a cocoon on her side, eyes staring blankly at the opposite wall, firmly on the Elven path of dreams.

Finrod Ingoldo, known as Felagund, an epesse given to him by the Dwarves and meaning 'Hewer of Caves' to many from Ennorath who knew him, trod silently to the wide carved windows of their wing of his father's palace and looked out over a peaceful, starlit Tirion.

Few were abroad at this time, but there were twinkling lights in many of the houses since the Eldar did not have to take their rest the same way that mortals did. Many stayed up through the hours that Tilion sailed the heavens and worked and played or sang until Arien lightened the sky. They did not require sleep and especially not here in a peaceful realm where the biggest danger lurking was whether to have too much of the delicately sparkling pale Teleri wine or the darker gold more potent brew of the Vanyar at a festival or celebration.

The cold sweat of his dream still lay upon his skin and the fast beating of his heart betrayed the fear he had felt both then and still felt now. A vision of red jaws and sharp yellow fangs tainted with blood, unbidden by him, flashed in front of his mind and he shuddered and trembled. He had to force himself back to the peaceful scene of a slumbering city in front of him, but the trembling in his limbs still persisted and he sagged against a couch with a low moan of anguish as the visions took the place of a more welcome reality.

And that was where his wife Amarie found him a few hours later, slumped in a foetal position against the couch, his face pale as death, teeth clenched in a rictus of fear and pain and covered with a thin sheen of sweat.

At first she could not rouse him. His eyes were fixed and staring at a spot in the wall opposite and fear was dark in the back of them.

"Finrod, beloved...please, wake up." Her voice had risen with anxiety, but she hesitated to touch him. She had made that mistake only once before and had been terrified by the violence of his response.

The sudden appearance of Lords Namo and Irmo in their apartments on that occasion had terrified her even more, especially since Lord Irmo gently removed Finrod immediately from the room and took him to Lorien, dis-incarnating both himself and the bristling, enraged Finrod. It had been left to Lord Namo to sit and explain gently to her that it was better for her and everyone that Finrod went for further healing.

Instead, this time she left him and sought the apartments of her father in law, Finarfin, no longer King of the Noldor, he had long since passed that responsibility back to Fingolfin, and Earwen his wife. She knocked hesitantly on the door which was answered by Finarfin who hastily donned a robe. Earwen was not there, it being her habit at this time of year to dwell with her kin by the sea.

"What happened?" He asked, staring fearfully at the slumped form of his son. Finrod's gaze was no longer fixed and staring, which was a good thing, but he was trembling from head to foot and Finarfin could hear the teeth chattering from the doorway. He was mumbling something over and over again like a litany, but Finarfin was too far away to make out the exact words.

Amarie shook her head. "I was not awake. He was unusually restless during the night though. He moaned and cried out at one point and I asked him what was wrong, but he merely muttered to himself and turned over to sleep. He seemed to relax then and I went back to sleep. When I awoke he was like this."

She sank onto the low sleeping couch her face buried in her hands.

Finarfin turned to the guard who had followed them. "Fetch the healers." He said quietly. "Tell them that Lord Finrod is having one of his seizures again."

The guard left and Finarfin bent down. "Finrod, my son, what is it?"

Like Amarie he did not touch the trembling elf and he was loathe to get too close as Finrod had been known to react violently when touched during these seizure. He sighed and decided to await the healers, so he stood up with the full intent of leaving the room and summoning more of the guard just in case they needed to restrain him. However as he stood up, his forearm was suddenly gripped with such ferocity that he yelped in pain. He turned back to find that Finrod, who was now upright against the couch, eyes bright with a mixture of fear, ferocity and anger which roiled off his tense form in waves, had his arm held in such a tight grasp that the knuckles showed white as the fingers dug into it.

"_Tol-in-Gaurhoth._" He whispered. "_Tol-in Gaurhoth... Thuringwethil, Draugluin.... ._"

The dam of tears behind his anguished blue eyes then broke and came tumbling down his cheeks. When the healers came running into the room followed by the guards they found Lord Finrod wrapped tightly in his father's arms and weeping helplessly and uncontrollably.

ooOoo

**The ante-chamber to the Halls of Audience of the Valar, Oiolosse**

Finarfin paced restlessly around the ante- chamber in the Halls of Manwe awaiting summons into the presence of the Valar, oblivious to the silent warrior Maiar standing motionless at both entrance to the inner Audience Chamber and the exit to the chamber.

Inside the Audience Chamber was his son, currently being questioned by the Valar and he felt frustrated that he and Earwen, summoned hastily from Aqualonde, and who was now gently consoling their daughter in law had not been permitted to go in with him. He had been in there what seemed like hours upon end.

His father-in-law, King Olwe and his brother in law Elmo sat quietly watching Finarfin pace and his frustration reach boiling point.

"It will do _no_ good for you to pace like that my son." Olwe gently remonstrated gently with him as though Finarfin were indeed a son of his flesh. "All you are doing is causing both yourself and Lady Amarie more distress." He patted the velvet cushioned marble bench beside him. "Calm yourself and sit. We will know more presently."

"I cannot sit." Finarfin spat out, and then felt immediate remorse at his outburst. He sat down on the edge of the bench. "I am sorry, it is not your fault. He has been bad before, but never raving like this after the seizure has worn off. Something is terribly wrong. He needs healing not interrogation."

He buried his face in his hands and Olwe gently put his arms around the other elf and held him close.

Neither of them saw Olorin, who was standing in as Herald in the absence of Eonwe, now in Middle-earth at the behest of Iluvatar, appear beside them. His eyes were filled with sympathy and his tone was gentle as he put his hand on Finarfin's trembling shoulders. "Lord Manwe bids you all enter now."

Finarfin jumped up and Olorin led him to the entrance of the Audience Chamber, followed more slowly by Earwen, Olwe and Elmo. As they entered the chamber they heard raised voices outside the ante-chamber and a flustered looking King Fingolfin came striding in, dressed in riding clothes, followed by a more serene Lady Galadriel and her husband Celeborn of Doriath.

Olorin smiled in greeting and waved them into the Audience Chamber as well. As they all entered the presence of the Valar, Celeborn stopped and spoke to Olorin.

"What's going on Mithrandir?" He asked in a low voice as he passed by the Maia. "Why have Galadriel and I been summoned here? What does Finrod's condition have specifically to do with us?"

Olorin chuckled. "It has been a long time since any called me by that name Lord Celeborn, but it is a welcome sound, even if it does bring back memories of darker times. As to what is 'going on', as you so eloquently put it, apart from the fact that your wife is Lord Finrod's sister, Lord Manwe will explain once he has received counsel from both of you. I can only tell you that it is concerning Middle-earth."

Celeborn punched a fist into the palm of his hand. "_I knew it_! There's trouble over there isn't there? That crazy son in law of mine has stirred up some hornet's nest by his poking and prodding into the past..."

Olorin interrupted him with an amused smile. "Well as to that I cannot attest and I daresay neither can Lord Finrod, given that neither of us are there. However, although this is a matter of grave import and will impact those who are now back over in Ennorath, it is _not _of their doing. It _does_ concern matters of which you and your lady wife have do have some knowledge though, and that is _all_ I can say."

By now, a baffled Celeborn had been ushered to a seat beside his lady wife, whose delicate eyebrows were raised at him as she rolled her eyes heavenward.

Olorin nodded to the Maia guards who closed the doors of the chamber and positioned themselves in front of them.

The Valar were sitting on a long raised dais and to everyone's surprise, Lord Ulmo had also graced them with his reluctant presence. He glowered at all and sundry, with the exception perhaps of Olwe and his children who were dear to him in his capacity of Lord of the Waters.

Finrod sat in a chair to one side. He looked calm, but Lady Este stood beside him with one hand on his shoulder and only the fire kindled deep in those blue eyes indicated that not all was quite as well as it seemed.

Before anyone could speak, Finarfin stood up and addressed Lord Manwe directly. "I would like to know what is going on my Lord. Why has my son been summonsed to council here? Why were we kept waiting with no explanation? My son is sick, he needs healing..." And there his frustrated outburst came to an end as Lord Manwe cast his bright and benevolent gaze on the frustrated elf and spoke.

"Be at peace Lord Finarfin, we apologise sincerely for the wait you have had, but we needed to speak to Lord Finrod at length on matters concerning Middle-earth."

"What has Middle-earth to do now with us?" Finarfin demanded without preamble.

Manwe sighed but replied with patience. "Granted, we no longer have lordship over those lands Lord Finarfin, however we _have_ been granted the leeway by Iluvator to deal with such matters that interfere with the running of this realm and as such, we have reason to believe that things from ancient times which _should_ have been left buried are now rearing their heads and could affect not only Middle-earth, but also this peaceful realm."

"I_ knew it!_ I just _knew_ it!" Celeborn jumped up in his turn only to find his tunic being pulled firmly from behind by his wife. He sat back down on the marble bench with a bump and scowled. "I knew it. They should _never_ have gone back"

"I _do_ wish you would stop saying that." Scolded Galadriel. "Why do you not just stop repeating yourself and let Lord Manwe explain? It may have n_othing at all _to do with Elrond and Celebrian searching for survivors of Arwen's line."

Celeborn subsided, grumbling quietly to himself and everyone else hid their smiles.

Lord Manwe waited patiently until silence reigned again and opened his mouth to finally speak, only to be interrupted once again. He sighed deeply and Lady Varda gently placed her hand over his.

"I am going back." Finrod stood up abruptly, shaking Lady Este's hand off his shoulder and careless of the fact that he had just rudely interrupted the Elder King. "I _have_ to go back. There is nobody else around who knows more than I do about this, with the exception of Edrahil and the others and they have not been released from Mandos yet. It is _no_ use asking Celeborn or Artanis. They were not actually there and I am _glad_ they were not. I _have_ to go back to Middle-earth."

Amarie burst into floods of tears.

ooOoo


	2. Of Dynasties and Fatherhood

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author Note: **The plot and storyline for this sequel is likely to be complicated and I do need tp spend some time setting the background for events.

"Being a great father is like shaving. No matter how good you shaved today, you have to do it again tomorrow. "

**-- ****Reed Markham**

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 2 – Of Dynasties and Fatherhood**

The night sky over the valley, which had been a clear, but deep purple velvet not minutes before had darkened considerably. Roiling violet and red-hued clouds tumbled over the surface of the yellow harvest moon, painting it with a wash of red. The sawtooth skyline of the surrounding Tatras Mountains, part of the Carpathians stood in sharp relief.

It was not a night to be outside, certainly not at this time of year and only very few of the most foolhardy of tourists were inclined to spend time in these mountains which could prove treacherous in winter weather. The scientists who came to study the mountains, flora and fauna were a different breed altogether, but even they forsook the area during the depths of winter. This part of the mountains could be most inhospitable and given to sudden storms.

In the year 2004, a large part of the forests clinging to the lower reaches of the mountain range were severely affected by a wind storm, the like of which had never been seen before. Millions of cubic metres of trees were uprooted in the storm in which there were at least two casualties which also resulted in several of the more remote villages being cut off.

Not that the villages particularly noticed the difference of course, since they were generally cut off from the rest of civilisation anyway. The folk of those villages did not encourage strangers to visit. It had been that way for at least six centuries and perhaps even before that time. Nobody but the elders of the village knew how long. In general they had – and still did - graze sheep on the land and there had been many productive mines. In the Dark Ages they lived in a feudal society, at the centre of which was the ruling Prince or King to whom they swore fealty as their Lord.

And up there, in the isolation of the mountains where the snow cut them off for months at a time and the temperatures dropped to minus forty degrees, nothing had changed all that much. In their mountain fastness and forts, the Princes and noblemen of the ruling part of that society still lived. The only difference being that they had all the advantages and devices of the modern world to ease their way.

They still demanded unswerving obedience expected from vassal to Lord. Once a year the village elders still travelled to the fortresses and offered their tithes to the ruling Lord. They ruled by fear and a strict hierarchy of rank which led to a predominantly static social structure in which every man knew his place, according to whom it was that he owed service and from whom it was that he received his land.

It was such an individual who stood on the stone balcony of the mountain fastness he, among many others, lived in and watched the growing signs of massive storm.

He didn't mind. He enjoyed the violence of the storm. It was in such a storm that he had been birthed by the wish of his own Mistress so many years ago now that he had lost count. The storm could rage as it wished. He felt part of it and it delighted him to see that others feared the elements.

He could hear the sounds of the guard being changed in the courtyard well below him, such was the sensitivity of his hearing. In the olden days they would have been armed with swords, axes and other mediaeval weaponry In fact the massive crossbows used six centuries ago that fired four heavy duty bolts at a time were still in their original emplacements, although rarely used now. However these days it was more likely to be P90 automatic weapons and Kalashnikovs, although the older members of the household still mourned the demise of the ancient weapons.

It really didn't matter to him _what_ was used to deal wholesale death, in addition to extensive knowledge of modern weaponry and how to use it he was also an excellent swordsman and his knife work was unrivalled. To him the more death and carnage the weapon dealt out and the swifter it dealt it, the better it was and the more satisfying for his tastes.

A little further down below him but still above the courtyard, through a series of arched window openings in the sheer cliff wall diagonally opposite to him he could see lights and hear sounds of feasting and raucous laughter, for tonight was a feast day celebrating the Lady and her long rule. It would, as it always did, of course eventually denigrate to nothing but a sprawl of bodies indulging in the basest of carnal activities. Later in the day when dusk fell, cavalcades of the privileged would travel down the mountainside to the lower reaches where helicopters awaited them to take them away from their secluded fortresses and into 'polite' society where they would spend the majority of the winter months in decadent play, only to return in the springtime.

His nostrils flared and wrinkled in disgust. They disported themselves, kept their society apart from the society of the day and had become decadent while ancient enemies walked freely among the mortals and gathered their power to them. He had often spoken of this at the councils and been shouted down and ridiculed in front of the Elders. So while the enemy grew powerful, they fiddled and danced while the wood was placed around their feet and the torches were being primed.

He sank to his haunches, a solitary watchful figure there on that balcony, and cast his sharp gaze about the world far below him. They were out there also watching, probably even watching him as he watched them. He could feel that warning quivering in his senses that warned of their presence. Only the modern long range weaponry installed in the fortess kept them at bay, but he knew for sure through his contacts that old adversaries were gathering strength in a modern mortal world that no longer cared or even believed that ancient darknesses still existed. They also had a vast advantage over him and his kind in that they could walk in the light of day, however his kind had also grown weak and careless as the centuries drew on...they no longer kept their instincts as hunters honed and this was not a good thing. In their time they had been formidable, but were now just a mere shadow of their former power.

But soon...soon their Lady would awaken and surely she would make them see. He could sense her stirring in her long sleep. It was almost time, just another century or two, but he wondered whether that might be too late. Would it be so wrong to awaken her a little early? He sighed, entrance to the chamber of the Elders was open to only senior members of the council and he was not one of them. Not yet and not for the forseeable future, his kind were longlived and a current council member would have to die to leave an opening. Yet he could find a way in, even just to seek advice, but it would be utter madness, absolute folly to even try and a painful death would serve no purpose. He would have to find another way.

A roll of thunder from behind the mountains echoed through the valley. The threatened storm was obviously almost there. The clouds were now black and had completely obliterated the moon. The only thing missing was the heavy raindrops that usually preceded the spectacular light show of a typical thunder and lightning storm. That was an unusual occurrence, but to the figure standing a lonely watch on the uppermost reaches of a mountain fastness, it seemed like a sign of some significance...a herald of changes to come and humankind, busy going about its humdrum life was about to experience some major upheaval of the most violent kind.

He chuckled and then stopped dead as a thought occurred to him. There _was _one they said whose power in the modern mortal world was rising If his own kind would not listen to him, then perhaps _this_ person would.

So it was that a decision was made which would impact on all the creatures inhabiting this world, sentient or not. He would leave tomorrow with the others when they left for the glamorous places, but he would not disport himself. _He _would seek out those who would aid him in the ancient battle he knew was forthcoming.

Indeed he would.

ooOoo

**The Residence of Brigadier Gary Matthews and Kim Matthews, Hampshire, England**

"Don't wanna."

Gary Matthews aka Eonwe, Herald of Manwe and Brigadier in the British Army met his daughter's horrific scowl with equanimity.

"Why not? This is your _favourite_." He coaxed desperately as he pushed the plate back to her. "Mummy said it was."

The little girl's scowl grew even deeper if that was at all possible and she folded her small arms in front of her. The lower lip, normally half of a charming rosebud, was thrust out alarmingly and a pool of tears threatened to overflow from the cornflower blue, black lashed eyes.

"Mummy doesn't do it like that." She said stubbornly and pushed the plate away petulantly. "I want Mummy."

The tears overflowed and plopped onto the plate. Eonwe decided that he would rather be in charge of a million orc recruits than where he was right now. All of his experiences as a warrior, a Herald for the Ainur, a Maia with huge responsibilities and as a senior ranking officer in the British Army had not prepared him for battle with the stubborn will of a small girl who, at that moment in time it had to be said, resembled her mother much more than her Maiar kindred.

"Mummy had to go away for a few days sweetheart, that's why Daddy took some leave to look after you." He heard a cajoling note in his voice and mentally rolled his eyes at himself. She was testing him, he told himself. He needed to step up to the plate here and say something profoundly fatherlike which would _immediately_ make her smile and eat her lunch.

Nothing came to mind.

"Don't want you, want Mummy." Came the stubborn rejoinder.

Even though he knew it was just a small girl's attempt at blackmail, the comment still stung. Almare or Allie as she had come to be called, usually flew into her daddy's arms as soon as he came home. 'Daddy's little girl', as Kim wryly put it. Somehow Kim not being where she always was had changed the balance in the little girl's life despite the fact that he bore the most of their daughter's outward affection.

"Having trouble?" Eonwe turned to find a tall red-haired young man leaning against the doorjamb.

"Unca Madie!" The little girl squeaked and bounced up and down.

The plate somehow got caught in between her elbow and the table and it somersaulted across the kitchen, dispersing its contents across the floor and her father's lap and finally landed with astounding accuracy in the washing up bowl, currently filled with soapy water. Eonwe and the family cat were both caught in the fallout spray. The cat let out an indignant howl and shot out of the kitchen for any safe dark haven he could find. Eonwe found himself wishing he could do the same.

"When did you get here? _How_ did you get in?" Eonwe asked and, caught as he was in a moment of complete havoc in his kitchen and strife with his daughter, he couldn't quite keep the challenge out of his voice.

"Kim thought you might have a little trouble feeding and looking after the little one." Maedhros tried to keep the laughter out of his voice as he headed over to where Allie was bouncing excitedly up and down in her booster chair. He bent down and gave one of her bunches a tug. "Hello my beautiful girl." He whispered into her delicately shaped ear. She giggled even harder and held her arms up to be lifted.

"Don't encourage her Maedhros." Eonwe growled as he tried to wipe up the mess with some paper towel. "She's being a naughty girl and she's supposed to be eating her lunch..."

"Which looks remarkably horrible and unappetising." Maedhros lifted her out of the chair and settled her on his hip. "I'm guessing cooking tuition wasn't on the top of the list of subjects in Maiar school."

The Herald sighed. "There _is_ no Maiar school." He began defensively and then caught the wicked gleam in Maedhros' eye. "I never said I was any good at cooking. Anyway, I didn't cook it, it came out of the freezer. One of the meals that Kim makes for her. So it isn't my fault."

Maedhros chuckled. "I may have a solution to all of your problems!"

He glanced towards the door and as if by magic, the tall figure of Erestor, who looked after Elrond's small household in Middle-earth appeared in the doorway. Allie knew when victory was in sight and her father sighed deeply when he saw her hold her arms out to Erestor. She gave him a sunny smile and the stormy tears and obstinate expression just melted away.

"Hello my little poppet let's see what we can get you for lunch rather than that horrible looking mess your father was trying to force down you." Erestor cooed at her and Eonwe knew he, the strongest of Maiar in arms, was beaten, by two elves and a small girl, so he did the only decent thing left to him under the circumstances and gathered as much of the tattered remains of his dignity as he could in order to beat a tactical retreat.

"I am going to my study, to do the work I _should_ have been doing." He declared and then slunk out of the door with his tail between his legs.

"I will bring in a nice cup of tea and a freshly baked scone in an hour or so, once we've settled Allie down." Erestor's voice floated after him.

The Herald's reply could have been either 'thank you very much' or 'fuck off and die' lost as it was in the noise of the study door slamming shut.

The two elves glanced at each other across the top of the child's golden head. Erestor had still not quite come to terms with the fact that Maedhros, the kinslayer, he who was responsible for killing his own kind was in the service of the Herald. Eonwe had taken great pains to explain to all of them that the two eldest Feanorians were repaying their debt to the Valar and the Eldar for their crimes by being here and they would not be permitted to return to the Blessed Realm until that repayment was complete.

For that reason...and for the reason that Elrond wished him to, Erestor put aside his distaste and anger and rubbed shoulders alongside those two most hated Elves, hated still even after all the millennia. Elves are immortal and have very long memories.

"You can take this little poppet and entertain her while I make her some decent food." Erestor said with a note of authority in his voice. He handed Allie over to Maedhros who took her into his arms. "Take her into the other room and I will call you when it's ready."

"Yes sir." There was just a hint of cheek in the red-haired elf's voice, but he obediently swung Allie up onto his shoulders and galloped out of the room neighing shrilly while she shrieked with laughter and told him to 'giddy up horsie'.

Erestor sighed and shook his head, then he started to clean up the kitchen and prepare to cook. Nobody was ever going to say that the head of Lord Elrond's household was unable to produce a good tasty meal, or ensure that a child's stomach was adequately filled.

Yet still a smile hovered around his mouth as he listened to the noisy play coming from the family room in the form of the silvery laughter of the Kinslayer and the giggles of the Herald's little girl.

ooOoo

Eonwe also looked up and smiled as he heard the laughter and giggling from the family room. He picked up a letter with a thick embossed crest at the top which proved to be an invitation for him and Kim to attend a function to be held at Clarence House. Attendance at this kind of event was generally expected of him, even though he really did dislike the pomp and circumstance that usually surrounded them. He was about to put it on the pile of 'priority events to consider attending' when he caught sight of an attachment which proved to be a guest list.

He cast a cursory glance over it, mentally assessing whether he would be considering professional suicide if he made an excuse not to go, but then his eye was caught by one name on the guest list, although it was not so much the name that stopped him dead in his tracks, but more the name of his company.

'Angband Enterprises' jumped off the page at him. He dropped the paper as if it had burned him and drew in a sharp ragged breath. Surely not? Surely some modern public relations person had just come up with the name and thought it was clever or some play on words? Whatever was the case, he _knew_ that he could not refuse to go. It was his duty to ensure that this did not have any kind of dark connotation.

He removed the letter from the pile and answered the RSVP with his distinctive handwriting, then he folded the paper up, put it in the already stamped reply envelope and sealed it shut firmly, then he sat back grimacing slightly to himself.

At the very least he and Kim would actually enjoy themselves and it would turn out to be nothing and surely at the very worst he may have just condemned them both to a tedious and boring evening. He picked up the envelope and put it in the post tray, reminding himself to post it that evening.

A quiet knock at the door interrupted his thoughts on the matter. "Come." He called out and Erestor's dark head appeared around the door.

"Ready for a cup of tea and a nice freshly baked scone and jam Lord Eonwe?"

Eonwe chuckled. Try as he might he could not get any of the elves to address him by his military title and mortal name in private.

He gave Erestor the full blast of that devastating smile of his. "I certainly am."

Erestor beamed and put the tray on his desk. The letter with the RSVP in the tray fell to the back of the Herald's mind as he made the most of Erestor's heavenly baking and it was Erestor who, tidying up the study while the Herald was bathing his daughter, put it in his pocket and strolled down to the postbox to mail it later that evening.

ooOoo


	3. Ancient and Modern 101

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

"Let your mind start a journey thru a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be...Close your eyes let your spirit start to soar, and you'll live as you've never lived before. "

**-- ****Erich Fromm**

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 3 – Ancient and Modern 101**

**Martigny, Switzerland, circa present day**

"What do they call this town again?"

Celebrian stirred as Elrond, currently sitting in the front of the Range Rover while Thranduil drove, asked yet another question after consulting the AA European road map book for the millionth time.

"Martigny, and the language they speak here is French." Replied the former Elven King patiently. "It's actually a crossroads between Italy, France and Switzerland, the main road leads to what is now called The Great St Bernard Pass over the Alps." He shot an amused glance at Elrond who was poring over the map with a puzzled frown on his face. "That would be the Redhorn Pass and the Misty Mountains to you."

Celebrian was now wide awake. "Where?" There was a distinct note of anxiety in her tone.

"No need to worry." Thranduil soothed from the front seat. "There are no orcs these days. The only dangers that lurk over the Redhorn these days is the fear of breaking down and freezing to death."

"As I recall, that was pretty much one of the dangers in the old days." The note of sarcasm in Glorfindel's voice was a little muffled due to the fact that he was sporting a leather Indiana Jones type hat which was currently pulled down over his face.

Celebrian peered out of the tinted windows in interest. "So this would be..._where_ in our time?"

Thranduil also glanced out of the window, but quickly returned his attention to the road. "This would have been part of Eregion on our left and going into what was Dunland on the right, but you must remember that two massive Ice Ages have altered much of the terrain. The town of Martigny is built upon the old foundations of Tharbad. If we keep on this road we will pass down what would have been The Old South Road which winds past where Isengard would have been and then on to the Plains of Rohan. The mountain has now moved slightly and there is no Gap of Rohan any more. Just a series of mountain passes."

Glorfindel was now sitting up and taking notice. "So many changes." He said quietly.

"Yeah, what a difference an Ice Age makes." Thranduil said wryly.

"So Imladris is up that way on the left?" Elrond peered to his left. So much of the area had altered that he felt completely lost and at sea.

"Yes, but the road now has another turning at the crossroads in the middle of town. We can veer away and onto what is the road heading over the old Redhorn Pass if we want, only it doesn't actually go over the mountain now, it goes through it, through a tunnel in the mountains. That's the road we will ultimately be taking."

His three companions were speechless for a little while, trying to take in all of the new information. Celebrian's eyes ached from trying to find some little landmark that was even a _tiny_ bit familiar.

Thranduil came to a halt at a junction which was served by traffic lights. "So, which way? Straight on up to the Redhorn or left to Imladris? Remember that we are due to rendezvous with Elladan and Haldir on the other side in three days."

He did not speak of _why _they were on the other side, since their task was to try and find Cerin Amroth where Arwen Undomiel finally laid herself down to sleep. However the further into Europe they travelled, the more Thranduil felt Elrond and Celebrian's tenseness and even he had a sense of something momentous in the making.

"Left to Imladris." Three voices spoke as one.

"We do have time do we not?" Asked Elrond.

"You're the boss." Thranduil grinned. He swung the car to the left and down a fairly old narrow street with both shops and houses on either side.. "I'm just the driver although I must admit to a little curiosity to see how much of the old place has survived. The twins told me that a lot had survived after the glaciers melted, but they felt it was no longer their home, which is why they eventually sailed. However Celeborn did live there for a little while longer after they sailed which says to me that something of the last Homely House did still stand. I can't see him living in a ruin."

Glorfindel snorted. "He probably lived up a tree knowing him."

They all hooted with laughter, since it was exactly how they remembered him.

"Moria is buried under these mountains." Glorfindel said softly. "With all their delving for these tunnels through the mountains, you would think that something may have been found of the Naugrim."

"Moria will still be there. It's just that nobody has thought to dig deep enough." Thranduil maneuvered around a car which had triple parked itself on one side of the road. The driver of the other car was about to alight when the Range Rover skidded past him. He shouted something in an intelligible language and Thranduil leaned his head out of the window, shouted something equally unintelligible back while make a very rude looking gesture with his fingers at the same time.

Elrond sank back in the seat and rolled his eyes. "What was all that about?"

"You don't want to know." Thranduil responded cheerfully. "Suffice to say that he was triple parked across the road. Probably Italian....they park like that in Trieste."

Glorfindel craned his neck out of the rear window. "Whatever you said must have upset him. He's hopping up and down and his face is a most peculiar shade of purple." He turned back to the front. "What _did _you say to him?"

"Nothing half as bad as what he said to me. He cast aspersions on my mother and my heritage. He's lucky I didn't get out and remove his head altogether. All we have to hope now is that he doesn't send the Polizei after us!" For someone who may have just taken off on the lam, Thranduil sounded remarkably unconcerned.

Elrond sunk further down in the front seat. "Oh dear."

ooOoo

As Thranduil and company travelled the roads of Switzerland, another group were also starting a journey. A positive cavalcade of vehicles with dark tinted windows were waiting in the courtyard Fortress Batiz high in the Tatras range of the Carpathians.

"You are travelling down the mountain with us this year Maksim? Usually you make your own arrangements."

Maksim glanced up into the tall, austere features of the head of the coven. "If I may be permitted to Lord Kiril." He said respectfully.

The head of the coven eyed him speculatively for a moment and Maksim felt as though those peculiar light blue eyes were boring straight through to his soul. He hoped that Kiril wouldn't ask for reasons, he didn't want to explain that he felt uneasy travelling on his own through the region at this time even armed as he was to the teeth. There was usually safety in numbers .

A low mournful howl echoed through the cavernous courtyard and a light drift of snowflakes floated down on the keen breeze. Clouds, pregnant with snow, blotted out any sign of the moon or stars.

Kiril looked up at the howl and his nostrils narrowed as he sniffed the air. "The wolves are gathering earlier this year." He turned to Maksim and gave what was, for him, a pleasant smile. He clapped the younger man on the shoulder. "Perhaps it is best that you leave now with us. I think that those who must stay will find themselves completely cut off in a few days. Come, travel in the front vehicle with me and tell me of your plans for the coming months. And call me Kiril."

It was more than obvious that he had thrown the last in as an afterthought but Maksim did not argue; one did not argue with the likes of Kiril, head of their particular coven. He was one of those who had originally served with the Lady many many millennia ago. He more than any other would have her ear once she awakened. Friendship with Kiril, or as near to friendship as their kind could aspire to, would be another valuable string to his bow.

The other members of the coven and their personal servants, those who looked after them in the daylight hours, had by now assembled in the courtyard. They wore robes of thick fur, lined with silk and for the most part they haughtily ignored each other as they nearly always did unless at a feast or in the public sittings of the Council. Amusing, thought Maksim, since only hours earlier they had consorted with each other in the most intimate of fashions.

They said nothing to him of course. He was a minor member of the coven, only in charge of security and arms. He was not important.

Eventually the long caravan of sleek black cars holding the senior members of the covens and their consorts and servants sped away from the fortress. Behind them, the huge doors were shut and sealed against hostile visitors and incursions. Maksim did not see them close since he was at the front of the cavalcade, but he felt the shuddering reverberation as the fortress was made impregnable for the winter by those who were unfortunate enough to remain.

A wide plain, dotted here and there with tufts of hardy, spiky grass and boulders stretched as far as the eye could see on either side of the road. If any attack was to come then it would not come here unless their numbers had grown greatly. No..if the attack he felt was imminent was to happen, it would be when they hit the forest, probably the small pass between the outskirts and the main forest road. The walls of the pass were high enough to hide an ambush, they would be bottlenecked in there. It would be like shooting fish in a barrel.

If they could get through that narrow bottleneck and into a wider area without trouble they would be relatively home free. The drivers could use speed to outrun the attackers who, although fast, were ultimately not faster than the fast coven armoured vehicles which could also be used as weapons if the drivers were competent enough. And they were...it was part of Maksim's job to make _sure_ they were.

"You are very quiet Maksim." Kiril's voice intruded and Maksim suddenly realised that he had been sitting for nearly half an hour while the plains sped away under them.

"I'm sorry my Lord." He said apologetically to the older man. "I was just going over my plans."

There...not a lie. He could hardly tell the lord of the Coven that he was frantically making contingency plans in case they were attacked. It had been many centuries since the chance of an ambush on this road or in the forest had been a certainty rather than a possibility. Even if he spoke of his fears and the bristling on the back of his neck, it would likely be received with an amused silence.

A dark line ahead told Maksim that they were rapidly approached the forest edge. Soon they would be under the eaves and into the pass and what would be, would be. He surreptitiously undid the holster at his hip so that he could be ready to draw his machine pistol if necessary. The comforting bulk of his automatic weapon was cushioned in a long custom made pack down the side of his seat. He also undid the zip to that. The driver had given him an odd look when he insisted that the pack travelled with him and not in the trunk of the car with the rest of the luggage.

He also had his long sharp knives and if all else failed, then what better weapon for a killing spree than the weapons the Dark Lord favoured them with back in the mists of time?

ooOoo

**The North West Coast of Wales, circa present day.**

Finrod Felagund stood once again on the shores of Middle-earth. After lengthy discussions and after hearing arguments and pleas from all parties, the Valar had finally agreed that he should go as adviser to Eonwe. They had not been surprised to find that he travelled to the coast and buttonholed Cirdan almost as soon as permission was given to ask for passage eastward on the Straight Road.

Fortunately Lord Ulmo had already spoken to the Shipwright and therefore Cirdan was not taken by surprise by the request. In fact Galdor had just dropped anchor in the bay of Aqualonde and when approached by Cirdan and a Finrod anxious to get moving he was quite willing to turn and travel back once his mariners were rested and the ship restocked.

"Two days?" Finrod looked dismayed.

"Two days." Cirdan repeated and firmly turned him in the direction of Tirion. "More than enough time for you to pack properly and say proper farewells to your lady and your family.

Finrod sighed. Amarie had been strangely co-operative over the whole thing once the waterworks had stopped.

"Go." She said in a resigned fashion as they said their farewells in Aqualonde. "I know you well enough, my husband, to know that you cannot just sit when there are things of import to do. You had no closure from your time in Middle-earth, sent back as you were after an untimely demise and,, you still have demons to face, your dreams show us that. Get it out of your system, we will not have the peace we deserve together until you do. We are not going anywhere and will surround you with love when you return."

Finrod clasped her in his arms and buried his face in her neck. "Thank you...thank you beloved for your understanding."

His wife finally pulled away and viewed him with slightly narrowed eyes. "Just be aware Finrod Ingoldo, you had _better_ not come back dead. I cannot and _will _not again endure the yeni sitting waiting while Lord Namo decides to let you out of Mandos."

"And I, Finderato, will be _most _displeased if you end up in my halls _ever_ again."

Husband and wife both turned to find the Lord of Mandos, dressed from head to foot in midnight blue velvet with a few silver stars on the edge of his matching cloak, standing on the dock beside them.

"Make the most of these few days child." He said to Finrod, as the former King of Nargothrond and his wife made obesience to the Vala. "I have a feeling that once you and your former partner in crime, Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower, get together, Middle-earth may be wishing they'd never been stuck with you."

And so it was that Finrod Felagund was standing waiting on a cold rocky shoreline in Wales for the person the Herald of Manwe had sent to meet him.

ooOoo


	4. Something wicked this way comes

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author Note: **Thank you to those who reviewed. For those reading this as a one off, the story probably does stand on its own, but characters from the earlier story A Singular Honour will appear, so it's probably a good idea to read that story first. Thanks to all who enquired about my health. I am struggling back to normality, but have a bit of a way to go still. Writing is therapeutic for me.

This chapter was going to be longer, but I decided to divide it into two chapters rather than confuse the issue.

**Late Note: ** Many apologies if you have read the chapter already, but I left a huge bit out at the end. It is now added in.

"Science may have found a cure for most evils; but it has found no remedy for the worst of them all -- the apathy of human beings.. "

**-- Helen Keller**

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 4 – Something wicked this way comes**

**London, circa present day**

It is a popular belief among the population that somehow human behaviour and the full moon are related, a theory that a myriad of studies done by researchers and scientists has consistently failed to prove. Scientists would have us believe that the reason for this is due to a constant repetition by the media that there is indeed a correlation by the many monster movies that abound on television and in video stores, existing folklore or tradition and common misconceptions.

So indeed the famous quote from a movie which stated that the cleverest thing the devil ever did was to convince everyone that he didn't exist was much more accurate than the author dared ever dream. What place was there for such a belief of a supremely evil being in this modern world of technology and secularism? What place indeed for those primal beliefs that hone the human survival instinct in a world now designed to operate from computers and the sterile safety of a technological world.

Real monsters, myths and fabulous creatures have taken the on the role of sheer fantasy - something people watch in a darkened cinema or living room under their own control. If something frightens them too much, they can turn the light on, or leave the cinema and go back to the warmth, safety and familiarity of their real lives, untouched by any of the disturbing events they have witnessed. They comfort themselves with the thoughts that such things are not real.

Or are they?

The fabricated safety of our society, built as it has been over centuries, is in fact quite thin. Were we to bravely dig just beneath the surface of our civilised world, what sort of monsters would we find? Only the bravest or the most foolish do so willingly, for in that way lies madness.

ooOoo

The change always began the same way, a sudden sensation of the blood pulsing through the veins, an increase in heart rate and an awareness of that red river of human life force plunging through the bodies of those around him.

Smells were different...no, not different...more intense. A barrage of smells would always assault his nostrils and he knew that it was coming. At first he had been terrified of the changes, capillaries swelling, bursting, joints cracking and changing and the fire, oh the searing, terrible, all consuming fire inside his chest spreading to every single part and fibre of his being.

His skin would tingle and become much more sensitive and he knew that it was time to withdraw from the light of the everyday world and seek the dark underworld that is always there seething beneath the lamp lit pavements and bright shopping malls,

ooOoo

Jeff Harris was drunk. Not so drunk that he didn't know where he was, but drunk enough for his senses to be dulled. It wasn't an unusual state for him on a Friday night and into the early hours of a cold Saturday morning. Friday was his night to howl, not literally of course, but figuratively and with his friends in the London clubs. It was also his habit to catch the Night Bus home and he nearly always did so from the safety of a bus stop in the city of London itself.

However on this occasion, he and his companions had not ended up in the city centre, but instead they had tried a new club in the outskirts.

"It's great." His friends had enthused. "Cheap drinks and even cheaper totty (1)"

That alone probably sold the idea, but Jeff did have the presence of mind to enquire about travelling home. They assured him that it was on the Night Bus route.

"No worries." They said. "You can either stay over or we can walk you to the bus stop."

In the stubborn way of drunks, the idea of sleeping on the hard floor at one of his friends' flats was not what he wanted. He wanted the warmth of his own bed, so at the end of the evening he opted for the Night Bus. Two of his companions duly walked him to the bus stop and said their goodbyes, leaving him swaying in front of the timetable and peering myopically at it, stabbing it with his finger in that comical way that drunks always do.

He was so intent on trying to translate what appeared to be hieroglyphics on the timetable that he didn't see that he was not alone at the stop. Through his drink befuddled brain he managed to assess that he had a further twenty minutes before the bus turned up, so sitting on the narrow plastic shelf that passed for a seat in the bus shelter was probably a good idea. He fumbled in his pockets for money, change preferably as he knew that the bus driver wouldn't be happy if he was handed a tenner (2) for a trip that only cost three pounds.

Only when he had satisfied himself that he _did _have change did he finally slump on the bench beside the only other occupant.

The man beside him was dressed in a long dark raincoat from under which protruded long legs clad in light coloured trousers and he was wearing trainers which had seen better days on his feet. And that was all Jeff could see of him because the collar of the coat was pulled up around the man's face and he wore a woolly hat pulled down low over his ears and brow. A tramp maybe? Or some kind of down and out taking a nap in the comparatie shelter of a bus stop on a cold, damp night. The smell that emanated from the man in waves was not easily distinguishable. It sort of reminded him slightly of rotting meat. Definitely a tramp then.

"All right mate?" Jeff said in a cheerful voice. He shifted surreptitiously along to the other end of the narrow seat.

The words dropped like stones into the silence of the night and for the first time, through the fog of inebriation, Jeff noticed that the bus stop was in quite a lonely spot, but also in the way of drunks, he dismissed the momentary feeling of perturbation and the slight shiver of unease that fizzled its icy way down his spine and arms.

_Don't be so daft_. He mentally scolded himself. _This is London on a weekend, what is there to be afraid of? He don't look like a mugger. Poor bugger probably just wants a kip out of the wind_.(3)

He glanced down the road and comforted himself that there were houses only about two or three hundred yards away. More than close enough for him to sprint to should there be a need. There would be cars as well, although he hadn't actually noticed any passing along the silent road. He nervously checked his watch. Only another ten minutes and the bus would be here.

No...there was nothing to worry about. Nothing whatsoever. He gave the tramp, who had yet to look up or even give any sign of life, a nod and a rather tremulous smile and glanced around through the clear perspex of the bus shelter window.

The bus shelter was on a particularly empty spot on what was a main road. There were houses further down as he had noticed before, but the actual bus stop seemed to be on the edge of some common land, the primary vegetation of which appeared to be trees and fairly dense bushes, although in the dark he couldn't really make out how far the common stretched. The only light other than the lights from the houses a couple of hundred yards away was from the single lamplight that lit up the bus stop sign.

Jeff licked his lips nervously. Where the hell was that bus? He desperately needed to pee, but was reluctant to head into the bushes and relieve himself. He could hold on. He _had _to hold on. The bus would be here in a minute.

It was in that moment of desperate decision, to pee or not to pee, that he noticed that the tramp was no longer sitting at the other end of the narrow bench.

"Fuck, fuck...fuck."

When had he got up and left? Jeff hadn't seen him leave. A wave of nausea hit him, momentarily blotting out the need to relieve a full bladder. He swallowed frantically as the contents of his stomach heaved their way up his throat and he found he just couldn't contain them any longer. His mouth filled with bile and he staggered to his feet and threw up in the corner of the bus stop. It seemed like he was never going to stop retching. He remembered once laughing with his mates as to why vomit always looked like diced carrots even when you hadn't eaten carrots. It didn't seem so funny now.

Finally after what seemed like hours, he stopped throwing up and stood up, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket. He shook his head trying to disperse the fog of the booze and it seemed to him that he felt less drunk than he had before, only now he had a raging thirst.

He had forgotten all about the tramp; possibly the biggest mistake of the evening.

A horrible thought occurred. Shit, had he missed the bus? Had it swept passed him on the road while he puked his guts up in the bus shelter?

As he frantically tried to decipher the time on his watch he became aware of that odd rotting meat smell again. Perhaps the tramp had come back for the bus. That would mean he _hadn't _missed it. Jeff turned in relief only to find himself facing a most terrifying sight.

Instead of the smelly tramp in his raincoat, woolly hat and trainers there stood a creature of stinking matted fur, bright feral eyes with a set of enormous jaws filled with sharp stained yellow teeth.

Jeff immediately did one of the three things that humans in danger do. Fight, freeze or flee are part of our natural survival instincts, very much dampened down now in our so called safe, disciplined modern society. Very few people actually stand and fight, especially not when they are faced with a creature from a nightmares or a horror movie. Many people would run, if they could, but Jeff was cornered in the bus shelter, there was nowhere for him to run to. Even the friendly lights of the nearby houses seemed miles and miles away. So he did the only other thing. He froze in place and closed his eyes, which was probably a good thing, since he did not see the massive paw snake out swiftly, sharp claws extending out for at least five inches.

He _did _feel the claws rip into his shoulder though and the pain that sliced through him was so piercing that his body went into immediate shock, also a small mercy since he then didn't feel the massive jaws clamp around his shoulder and tear a big chunk of his skin and flesh clear away.

Just before the welcome darkness of unconsciousness surrounded him, the last sensation he had was of his full bladder emptying itself down his designer jeans, over his expensive loafers and puddling around his feet.

ooOoo

"Mr Harris...Jeff...can you hear me my love?"

Jeff didn't want to wake up. It was safe where he was floating around in nothing, but the voice was insistent.

"Mr Harris?"

He managed to open his eyelids with great difficulty. It felt as though someone had sewn weights into them. "Unnhhh...uh..." He heard a rusty cracked noise and realised that it was his voice. Some persistent memory of something he didn't want to remember tugged at the corners of his mind.

"There you are. Did you have a nice sleep? I just need to check your pulse."

He vaguely made out that there was a woman bending over him dressed in a sort of tunic and trousers. She had a watch pinned to her breast pocket and was loosely holding a wrist and checking the watch. It took him a few seconds to realise that the wrist she was holding was his.

"Where..." He tried to speak but his voice felt odd and unused. He swallowed convulsively and tried again. "Where am I?"

"You're in hospital my dear." The nurse said cheerfully. "You were brought into accident and emergency by ambulance."

He struggled to remember recent events but something in his brain was not allowing him full access to his memories. "How... how long have I been here?"

The nurse lifted his chart, scribbled her findings down and checked the date. "You were brought here day before yesterday. Early hours of the morning."

"How, who brought me?" He desperately tried to find some reality to hang on to. His name...Jeff, Jeff Harris. He lived at 54 Bermondsey Terrace. So far so good. Someone had to have brought him into hospital. He had been drunk, he remembered that. Did he have an accident, got into a fight? His friends, or one of them must have brought him here.

"Not sure about that love." The nurse replied. She started to straighten out his sheets. "I think a bit of freshening up and perhaps some breakfast might do you some good. Just let me go and check with the doctor that you can have something to eat and drink."

He grasped her arm as she turned away from the bed. "Can you find out how I got here? Who brought me in I mean. I...I can't remember a lot."

She smiled down at him. "I'll see what I can do. Perhaps the policeman who was here earlier knows a bit more." She glanced around the ward. "I can't see him, he must have gone for a cup of coffee. He was here quite some hours waiting for you to wake up."

"Policeman?" If Jeff had any colour in his cheeks it would have drained away. "Did I do something? Commit a crime or something?"

If only he could remember, but the memories picked tantalisingly at the edge of his mind and refused to become solid.

She looked surprised and winced a little because his grip had tightened considerably. "A crime? No...as far as I know you didn't commit a crime, but you _were_ the victim of a rather nasty attack. I assume the policeman needs to ask you some questions." She pulled her arm away and rubbed it. For the first time in the conversation she looked a little worried. "I'll see if I can find him and I'll also tell the doctor that you are awake."

Her hasty steps made no sound on the floor, but if they had they would have sounded swift. She left her patient lying in a hospital bed with virtually no memory of the last forty eight hours.

For the first time since he awoke Jeff noticed that his left arm was bandaged from below his elbow and across his shoulder. He moved it gingerly, expecting pain, but surprisingly there was none. Apart from the bandage constricting his arm he appeared to have normal movement. He actually felt quite well part from a feeling a weakness.

He was struggling into a sitting position when a tall, dark young man in a neat grey suit and blue tie suddenly appeared by the bed. He smiled at Jeff who managed a puzzled querying smile of his own.

"Here let me help you." The young man helped Jeff sit up and propped the pillows up behind him. He held out his hand and Jeff took it bemusedly. "My name is Detective Constable Jim Moore from the Metropolitan Police. Do you feel up to chatting about the attack on you the other night?"

Before Jeff could answer, both the doctor and breakfast arrived and Jim had to go and wait in the waiting area while he was examined. Only a short while later the nurse gave Jim the nod that the doctor had finished his examination and he returned to the young man's bedside.

Jeff looked up at him. He looked pale and stressed. "I've remembered a few things." He said quietly as Jim seated himself in the chair by the bedside and took out his notebook.

"Great. Just take your time and tell me what you can, no stress."

The young man was quiet for a few minutes. He didn't really eat the food in front of him, but pushed it around the plate instead.

"Not hungry?" Jim asked and Jeff shook his head.

"The sight of it makes my stomach turn cartwheels and I can't understand it because I do feel hungry." He said despondently.

Jim stood up and took the tray which he placed on the locker. "Don't worry about it, it's understandable after such a nasty experience that you're not sure what to do or feel." His tone was sympathetic.

Jeff plucked at a loose hair on the hospital coverlet. "I can remember most of what happened, it all came back with a rush when the doctor examined my arm and I saw the injury. But I really don't know whether it'll make much sense at all. I'm not even sure you'll believe me."

Jim Moore thought of all the things he had seen in his trip to ancient Middle-earth and smiled. "Oh trust me Jeff. You would be surprised what _I_ would believe!"

ooOoo

(1) Totty, slang word for girls out on the pull

Detective Constable Jim Moore is a character from A Singular Honour and will be reprising his role in this story.

(2) Tenner is a slang word for £10 note in British currency

(3) Kip is a slang word for a nap or a sleep.


	5. Off to a bad start

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author Note: **Just to clarify for those with _very_ understandable comments and queries, I _am_ aware that the werewolves in the Silmarillion were actually fallen Maiar and as such the accepted horror story version of such creatures as werewolves differs in that the Silmarillion versions could not 'infect' their victims by biting or scratching them. They were in fact corrupted Maiar in thrall to Morgoth. However if I stick to Tolkien's version this would be a non story, so I am using some poetic license and making my werewolves similar to the ones we are familiar with in the movies, although the original Maiar will make an appearance as they are meant to be. Hopefully the mechanism by which this has come about will unfold as the story unfolds. As usual I am asking you to suspend disbelief for the sake of the story!

"Fine, I'll just jump in my time machine, go back to the 12th century, and ask the vampires to postpone their ancient prophecy for a few days while you take in dinner and a show."

"Okay, at this point, you're abusing sarcasm."

**-- ****Giles and Buffy**

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 5 – Off to a bad start**

"Lord Finrod?"

A clear voice aroused Finrod from his reverie. He had lost count of the time he had waited on the beach and was sitting on a pile of driftwood patiently waiting, watching the stars and contemplating the waves as they lapped gently on the beach. Low tide he estimated and if he had to wait much longer he would have to move up further up onto the sand dunes.

He stood up and watched with a smile as a small slim woman scrambled down the dunes, blonde hair flying out behind her. Her face was red from running and wore a flustered expression. She slid down the last dune and skidded to halt in front of the ancient Elf Lord.

"I am _so _sorry." She gasped, struggling to catch her breath. "I couldn't bring the mini any closer, it's parked on the road. We'll have to walk back." She glanced at the pack lying on the ground beside the Elf. "Is that it?"

Finrod blinked in confusion. "Should there be more?" He asked, wondering what exactly a 'minny' was.

It was her turn to blink. "Er...no, I mean there's no rule about how big luggage should be, I just thought that since you're staying for a while, you would have more. Never mind. I am sorry you've had a wait, but I was visiting friends in the Forest of Dean when my husband called and asked me to pick you up."

"Your husband?" Finrod seemed even more confused.

She went bright red. "Oh god, I am doing this arse about face. I am Kim Matthews, Gary, who you know as Lord Eonwe ,is my husband." She stuck out her hand.

Perplexed, Finrod stared at the outstretched hand. It took him a couple of minutes to realise that he was supposed to take it. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Mae govannen dear lady. I am happy to make your acquaintance. I am Finrod Ingoldo."

Kim blushed. "Yes, I know. I really got off to a bad start there didn't I? I just wasn't expecting to have to make a detour to pick someone up. Eonwe is looking after Allie, our daughter, while I was visiting friends so he couldn't come and fetch you. I was the closest to your drop off point, so I drew the short straw." She glanced back at the sand dunes. A light mist from the sea was drifting up them. Shortly it would probably become a thick fog. "We need to get to the car and on our way before this fog gets any worse."

Finrod bowed and picked up his pack. "I am in your hands Lady Kim. Lead us to your carriage."

"Oh please, just call me Kim. I really can't get used to all that 'lady' stuff. The car is this way."

She started up the dunes followed closely by Finrod who, in spite of his misgivings about the darkness of Middle-earth, was beginning to enjoy himself hugely.

The 'minny' proved to be a small vehicle of sorts. It had no horses so Finrod was at a loss to understand how this carriage was meant to get them from there to wherever the Herald was, however he decided to humour Kim. She unlocked the driver's side and slid in behind the steering wheel, leaning over to unlock the passenger side door.

"Just sling the pack onto the back seat. I won't be able to get it in the trunk. I have far too much stuff in there. Eonwe is always nagging at me to clean it out but I never seem to get around to it."

Finrod look bemused, but obediently leaned into the vehicle and threw his pack onto the back seat. He realised he was meant to sit in the passenger seat, but the vehicle wasn't too roomy. He slid onto the seat but found that his long legs had no room and his knees were practically up by his ears.

Kim tried not to giggle at the sight in case she offended him, but one look at Finrod's wry expression made her laugh all the harder.

"The seat goes back." She reached under the seat and pulled a lever, at the same time pushing the seat back. "Is that better?"

Finrod sighed in relief as his legs stretched into a more comfortable position. "Yes, le hannon. _Much _better. Tell me, how long will we wait for the horses?"

Kim's eyebrow shot up to her hairline and she bit her lip to stop herself from laughing again. "We don't need horses Lord Finrod. We have the internal combustion engine." She started the engine and Finrod's mouth dropped open in astonishment as the vehicle jumped into life.

"This is a wondrous thing!" He gasped, obviously greatly impressed.

Kim grinned. "Erestor thinks it's an invention of a darker power."

"Bah... Erestor is an old woman." Finrod replied, Kim burst into fresh giggles. She was beginning to like this Elf. He was pretty cool.

She reached over and pulled a belt attachment over his chest. "You need to put the seat belt on. If the police pull us over we would be in trouble." She clicked the belt into the fitting with a snap. "_Now _we're ready to roll."

ooOoo

Finrod sat in speechless silence as the little car bowled along the road. They passed houses and shops, also some places that Finrod recognised as taverns of sort or places of entertainment. It was night time, but there were bright lights along the roads and in the houses. In the old days of Middle-earth only the Elves had mastered the art of illumination. The Secondborn habitually used rushlight and candles.

Like Maedhros, Finrod observed that the people seemed healthy and happy. Certainly not threatened, but that did not mean that a threat did not exist, it just meant that mortal kind was not able to detect it.

He was so immersed in watching the world fly by, he didn't realise that Kim had slowed the car down only a few miles onto the large road she called a 'motorway'.

"Are we stopping?" He asked, slightly disappointed that this fascinating experience might be coming to an end.

Kim shook her head. "No...but there are lights and signs on the road ahead. Some kind of diversion. It's weird, there was nothing about road works on the motorway on the AA website. Maybe there's been an accident up ahead."

Finrod peered into the distance where twin yellow lights flashed in sequence. "There is an arrow pointing left. I see no other vehicles. Do we go in that direction then?"

Kim frowned. "I guess we have to. I'm not sure where this road leads to, but hopefully there'll be other signs further on." She swung the car left off the motorway and down a small road.

They had been driving for almost twenty minutes and Kim was bewildered at the lack of further signage. Finrod could see that she was anxious, but said nothing.

Finally she slowed down, pulled the car into the side of the road and sighed. She reached under her seat and pulled a book out. It proved to be a book of what looked like maps to Finrod. She flicked through a couple of pages and traced some of the lines with her finger. Her frown grew.

"We are going in the wrong direction?" Finrod ventured.

"Yes, completely the wrong direction, but there was nowhere else we could turn off. Did you see any other signs?"

Finrod shook his head. "What do we do?" He felt out of his depth for the first time since his rebirth. There was a strange tingling at the back of his neck. He couldn't quite make out what it was or what it meant.

"Well we have two choices, go back or go forward." She leaned over the steering wheel and stared out of the front car window. "I don't like this. I have a funny feeling about this." She turned the car around . "We're going back. This doesn't feel right to me."

Finrod found himself wholeheartedly agreeing with her. This long dark silent road didn't feel right. He felt exposed and vulnerable and his knives were in the pack on the back seat. He found himself looking for an excuse to reach for the pack.

As Kim moved the vehicle forwards back in the direction of the motorway she looked in the rear view mirror and to her horror saw yellow pinpricks of light, pinpricks that very much resembled eyes. A quick glance at her companion showed her that he had seen them too. In fact he had gone quite pale.

"I suggest that you make this carriage go very fast, now." His voice held a note of urgency and Kim didn't need further urging. Sinuous grey shapes had materialised almost at the back wheels of the car. She put it into gear and shot off at such a speed that loose gravel from the road flew into the air and hit the car windows and windscreen with a thin rattling noise.

Neither Finrod or Kim needed to look out of the windows to know that at least three long grey shapes were loping behind the car. Kim put her foot down, but the lead wolf, for that was what they resembled, seemed to move just as fast as the car did. Its companions fell back slightly, but the leader easily kept up with the increased speed.

"It is getting closer and closing the gap." Finrod said softly. He reached over and grabbed his pack, withdrawing two wicked looking bone handled knives.

Kim said nothing, she was trying to concentrate on driving as fast as she could without overturning the car. A massive thud on the roof of the mini told both Finrod and Kim that the huge wolf was now doing a balancing act above them.

"_Shit."_ Kim whispered underneath her breath. Her heart was pounding like a jackhammer. Surely she didn't survive all that crap in the War of Wrath only to be eaten on an English road by a wolf of all things?

A massive front leg and paw covered with matted grey hair suddenly thrust through the roof of the car, causing both driver and passenger to scrunch to either side.

_Bugger this. _Kim thought. She had done her driving with an Army driving instructor who had taught all of his pupils evasive driving and she made a mental note to call him and thank him for that.

"Hang on to something." She yelled at Finrod as the questing arm was thrust down yet again through the roof.

"What are you going to do?" Finrod yelled back. He was already hanging on for grim death, but braced his hand against the dashboard and gripped the seat in between his legs with his other hand.

"Just hang on." Kim put her foot right down on the accelerator. The car shot forward a couple of hundred yards before she jammed her foot on the brakes. The car practically stood on its front end and Finrod's hair stood up on end at the same time. The wolf on the roof shot off onto the road in front of the car, rolled a few times and then lay still.

"It may be dead, or injured." Finrod said shakily when he found his voice.

Kim stared grimly at the unmoving body. "Well I'm not waiting around to find out, or for his friends to finally catch up." She jammed the car back into gear and revved the engine.

By this time the wolf had staggered drunkenly to its feet and it lifted it's massive shaggy head and howled. Both Finrod and Kim stared aghast at the size of it. It had to be at least seven foot tall and was standing on its hind legs just like a human. Kim swallowed down her fear and put her foot down on the accelerator again. The car hit the wolf full on and knocked it flying sideways. This time it rolled into the ditch between the hedge and the road and lay still.

Kim didn't wait around this time. She drove like a maniac until they reached the junction for the motorway. As they pulled onto the motorway, they both noticed that there was no sign of any diversion or flashing lights and the further up the road they drove the more they realised that this particular diversion had been for them alone.

They drove the next twenty miles in complete silence. Kim kept glancing in the rear view mirror as though she was expecting to see a whole army of grey wolves gaining on them, but the only thing she saw were lights from other cars. It wasn't until she saw a motorway services, with bright lights and lots of people that she relaxed her grip on the steering wheel.

She turned into the services and Finrod arched a questioning look at her.

"I need a drink. Preferably a nice stiff alcoholic drink, but a cup of tea will do fine." She said between gritted teeth.

Finrod nodded.

It was only when they were seated in the safety and warmth of the cafeteria, surrounded by other travellers that they both realised how tense they were. Kim gripped her tea like a life preserver with both hands. It was the only way she could stop the mug from shaking so that she could take a sip.

"What _were_ those things?" She whispered.

Finrod stared at her. "I believe they are why I am here." He said quietly.

Kim's mobile phone took the opportunity of ringing at that moment. She answered it and Finrod listened quietly as she spoke into it and told whoever it was she appeared to be talking to about the chase. She eventually shut the phone off and put it into her bag.

"That was Eonwe. He sensed something was wrong. He's been trying to call me for the past two hours. My phone kept reverting to voice mail even though it was switched on, there wasn't a signal. He wants us to stay on the motorways and off the side roads until we get closer to home."

Finrod nodded. "A wise decision."

"What were those things?" She repeated.

"I believe that they are the spawn of Draugluin, what you would call a werewolf. He was a corrupted Maiar who threw his lot in with Morgoth."

"How do you know?" Kim persisted.

Finrod was quiet for a long time, staring down into his mug of tea. Finally he looked up and his blue eyes were brimming with tears.

"I met my death at the hands of one of their kind, many many millennia ago."

ooOoo


	6. Being evil is easier than being good

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author Note: **Many thanks to all who reviewed, all comments are much appreciated. Apologies for the delay in posting the next chapter, I have my grandson staying with me at the moment during the summer holidays and he monopolises the computer for his games.

The Black Numenorean called Herumor in Tolkien's works probably came too late to qualify as a Ringwraith, although it has been suggested that he _was_ indeed one of the nine. There is no canon to back that surmisal up. Out of the nine Ringwraiths, only Khamul was ever named by Tolkien. Again I have used poetic license and brought Herumor in as a villain. The name Herumor means 'lord of the dead' and, therefore, he seems to be an appropriate choice for the purposes of the story.

"'Eowyn! Eowyn.' cried Merry.

Then tottering, struggling up, with her last strength she drove her sword between crown and mantle, as the great shoulders bowed before her. The sword broke sparkling into many crown rolled away with a clang. Eowyn fell forward upon her fallen foe. But lo! The mantle and hauberk were empty. Shapeless they lay now on the ground, torn and tumbled; and a cry went up into the shuddering air, and faded to a shrill wailing, passing with the wind, a voice bodiless and thin that died, and was swallowed up and was never heard again in that age of this world."

**-- **** J R R Tolkien, Return of the King; The Battle of the Pelennor Fields; Lord of the Rings**

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 6 – Being evil is easier than being good  
**

**Paris, circa present day**

Maksim ran a finger in between the tight shirt collar and his neck. Ordinarily he wouldn't have chosen Paris in the midst of a stuffy summer for a place to spend his time.

Even though he couldn't enjoy the sunshine of the Riviera, he nevertheless had a small apartment there. The nightlife was lively, the tourists and beautiful people abounded, the clubs were enticing and the heaving mass of humanity was attractive to one of his kind. All that throbbing life was enticing even though he no longer fed off the herd and used donated blood instead.

This summer was different. Journeying south with Kiril, the head of his coven, had put paid to his usually much guarded autonomy and privacy. As soon as he allowed himself to be drawn into the 'inner circle' so to speak, he had given up his rights to any kind of privacy. It was a sacrifice he had made deliberately. He needed access to those in power and this was his only way of getting close to them.

Tonight was particularly important, for tonight a soirée was being held in honour of the very person he wanted to make contact with. The presence of this 'dignitary' had thrown the whole of the crème de la crème of the vampire world into an ecstasy of excitement. It was a huge feather in the cap of his coven to be the one chosen to host the event in the massive house just off the Bois de Bologne, that urban forest in the middle of the sprawling mortal city that was Paris.

Maksim was not quite sure how he would achieve getting close enough to Lord Herumor, Chief Executive Officer of Angband Enterprises to actually have a conversation with him, but if he was going to manage to get that august personage's ear, this was as good a way as any to do it.

Meanwhile here he was sweltering in a warm Parisian summer evening, dressed in his best black security suit on the steps up to the Grand Hallway while a sleek limousine with dark tinted windows glided smoothly to a halt.

Maksim gestured to his security team who immediately surrounded the vehicle. The driver, a heavyset, almost reptilian looking creature jumped out. He plodded around to the passenger door and opened it.

There was an immediate rush of Council Members all craning to see Herumor at close range, to such good effect that Maksim was almost crushed in the rush and the only part of this powerful man, or whatever he was, that Maksim saw was a view of his upper body and head with its pale eldritch-like long hair.

What he _felt_ was something else entirely. Sheer raw power emanated from Herumor in waves of darkness so deep that they sent a chill of horror through him. Even with all the things he had seen and done in his life as a vampire, Maksim had never felt such unspeakable power and malice as surrounded this creature like an impenetrable cloud.

He could not see Herumor's face and a huge part of him did not wish to. He did not want to look into the eyes of something so evil that it dimmed the lamps down as it passed by them. And that was pretty much saying something for a vampire of his age and standing.

"So that's the great Lord Herumor is it?" Dmitri, one of his security team managers suddenly appeared beside him. "Rumour control is saying that he is _extremely_ ancient. Some sort of King from days gone by, before the human herd were wiped out to nothing but a few in the Ice Age."

Maksim watched the tall black garbed figure disappear into the Grand Hallway and frowned at the flurry of Elders all trying to vie for Herumor's attention at the same time.

"Not as ancient as our Lady, I think." He said softly. "Although _that _much power comes from a much more ancient source than even she. I am not even sure that it all comes from him."

Dmitri shrugged. "Whatever." His tone was bored now that the initial excitement had worn off. "There's nearly always another big boss the further you crawl up the anthill."

"I suppose so." Maksim's reply was also non-committal. "You had better show that driver where to park the vehicle, then I want you inside on security duty."

"I'll miss the opening welcome if I don't go in now." Dmitri protested.

Maksim smiled grimly. "Oh I shouldn't worry if I were you, I imagine that the most exciting part of the evening is still to come."

He waited on the top of the steps while a disgruntled Dmitri spoke with the driver with what seemed to be an elaborate series of hand gestures. The driver stared at Dmitri with small, piggy yellowish eyes and Maksim was slightly repelled when he saw the tip of the drivers red tongue quickly flick out and along the thin wide mouth as though he was licking his lips in anticipation of a good meal. The creature nodded to Dmitri and got back into the vehicle.

"Well I have seen some gross things in my time, but that one takes the cake." Dmitri made a moue of disgust as he tramped back up the steps to Maksim.

"He _is _mortal though." Maksim said thoughtfully.

Dmitri let out a short bark of laughter. "For sure, I could almost see the dark sludge he calls blood plodding through his veins. Not a vintage I would care to sample though."

Maksim's eyes lit up with laughter. "Funny...I got the impression that _you_ were a meal he would have given his eye teeth to sample...that's supposing his whole set of teeth weren't _all_ made out of sharp eye teeth of course."

"Oh ha ha, very droll." Dmitri walked into the Grand Hallway. When Maksim didn't follow him immediately he turned to him. "Well...aren't you coming?"

Maksim didn't answer straightaway. He was staring down at the vehicle which had not yet pulled away from the door. "Go ahead." He eventually said brusquely. "I will be in shortly."

Dmitri shrugged and went up the stairs. "Sure, don't be too long though, Lord Kiril will be wondering where you are."

Maksim remained where he was, staring fixedly at the reptilian driver. He felt a shudder of revulsion as those mean yellow eyes met his with a look of almost lascivious triumph, then the car smoothly moved away towards the designated parking spot.

He was no longer sure about his plan to get closer to Herumor. In fact it seemed like the worst plan ever. Herumor was on nobody's side but his own.

ooOoo

Maksim wasn't the only one having misgivings that night as he was to find out once the party was over, the guest of honour had taken his leave and he had retired for the night after politely refusing to join in any other festivities. He needed a clear head to think about all that had happened.

Just as he had settled himself down with a glass of blood from the small refrigerator there was a quiet knock at the door of his apartments in the Coven house. He frowned and placed the glass on a table. It was not usual for him to have visitors, especially not here.

The quiet knock sounded again so he sighed and got up to answer the door. Nobody was more surprised than he was to see Kiril standing there.

"Let me in before someone sees me." Kiril kept his voice low.

Maksim stepped back in bewilderment and allowed the leader of the coven to enter.

"Is there something wrong Lord Kiril?"

Kiril said nothing. Instead he moved around the room, checking the window and opening the door into the small bathroom. Finally, apparently satisfied with what he either found or did not find, he sat down on the only chair, leaving a puzzled Maksim to sit on the bed.

Kiril leaned forward. "My apologies for that Maksim, I needed to be sure no one had seen me or that you had no one else with you. My words are for you and you alone."

Maksim looked even more bewildered. "I could have told you no one else was here Kiril." He said quietly. "I don't socialise much with the others, doing so would compromise my job here."

"I know that you take your duties very seriously." Kiril replied. "It is _because _you do not socialise that I have decided to take you into my confidence." He leaned forward again. "Tell me, what did you think of our guest tonight?"

Maksim wasn't quite sure what to say. "I didn't really have any kind of conversation with him."

Kiril gave a short bark of laughter. "Of course you didn't. Only the most prestigious and powerful of our coven were permitted that honour. Yet, you have sharp eyes and even sharper ears, you blend in with a crowd, you _hear_ things and see things that perhaps we would not."

"I heard nothing but the clucking of hens apparently unaware that the wolf is amongst them in the hen-coop." Maksim said after a moment of wondering whether saying what he really felt would land him in the soup.

Kiril raised an eyebrow, but also chuckled. "A wolf? A Freudian slip my friend. Strange that you should compare him to a wolf. He has asked for a representative to join his team Maksim. I have suggested you." Maksim opened his mouth to protest, but Kiril waved his hand for silence. "I need someone I can trust, someone who I _know_ will have our interests at heart. I fully realise that this is a dangerous assignment, but I have reason to believe that our old adversaries are also being courted by Herumor and I need to know whether he intends to set us against each other."

"Has he admitted this?"

"He has admitted nothing. At the moment he uses nothing but the sweet words of courtship and many promises." Kiril said grimly. "This intelligence comes from another source entirely." He got up and paced restlessly around the room. "We have grown weak Maksim. As we are now, we could not withstand a direct confrontation with the wolves and certainly not with Herumor, but they... they have grown stronger and they have advantages we do not have. They can walk in daylight and interact with humankind. We used to be powerful but we have let it fritter away. I am reluctant to throw our lot in with Herumor, but mine is a lonely voice crying in the wilderness, the rest of the council see only the promise of power given to them. I do not trust Herumor."

Maksim stared at the flames crackling in the stone fireplace. "What about the Lady? Can we not awaken her and ask for her advice?"

"Herumor has advised us to wait."

Maksim was outraged. "Wait? For what do we wait? What purpose does he have in such advice? Surely the council will make their own decision on this."

Kiril shook his head. "There has been a vote and they have decided in favour of leaving her at rest until her time is here for her to wake. They would not listen to me. She will remain in Castle Batiz until her waking time comes." He reached out a hand and gripped Maksim's shoulder. "I _need_ you to do this Maksim."

A noise outside in the corridor caused them both to freeze. Sounds of low husky laughter and then a door closing caused them to relax slightly. _Another clandestine assignation no doubt,_ thought Maksim.

"I should go now." Kiril said. "I have bought you a little time with Herumor. You are to report to his head office in London a week today. Be careful, Herumor is _very_ powerful, as you have no doubt already realised. I will look forward to your reports."

Maksim sat and stared at the fire for a long time after Kiril left him, his fingers loosely clasping the glass of blood. He saw his fate in the leaping flames quite clearly. Kiril was literally throwing him to the wolves and he was not in a position to say no. It would take all of his cunning and wiles to comply with Kiril's wishes and stay alive and he wasn't sure that this was a juggling act that he wanted to struggle with.

But what was the alternative? Throw his hand in with the good guys? Even supposing the good guys wanted a bad guy on their team. Maksim could see _nothing _positive in his future.

ooOoo


	7. The strong arm of the law

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author Note: **I thought quite hard about the matter of introducing the baddies as something other than evil guys doing evil for evil's sake and then I decided that too many stories only tell the tale from the viewpoint of the goodies. In fact there are many viewpoints from all sides, good, bad and indifferent which make up any story. If we only tell it from one side then it's a very flat one dimensional result. I strongly feels that there are varying degrees of 'baddie-ness'! Just as there are varying degrees of 'goodie-ness'. Maksim is a character who wasn't originally meant to stand between the two camps, but since my characters all have lives and personalities of their own, that's where he has ended up. The development of the storyline will show just how far and in which direction he takes himself. Will he be a goodie-baddie or a baddie-baddie? Only time will tell.

"Veruca was right about something. The wolf is inside me all the time, and I don't know where that line is anymore between me and it. And until I figure out what that means, I shouldn't be around you... or anybody"

**-- ****Oz to Willow, Season 4, Buffy the Vampire Slayer**

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 7– The strong arm of the law**

Jim raised his hand to ring the doorbell in the middle of the polished wooden front door once again only to find that his finger was stabbing the chest of a very tall individual with guinea gold hair hanging in a single thick braid over one shoulder. He didn't need to be informed that this was yet another elf, but there was definitely something different about this one. He had the fine patrician features that all the Eldar habitually had, but there was something about his eyes, an inner light reminiscent of the light in Eonwe's eyes only milder.

Yes, he thought, this elf has seen the light of the Two Trees.

He brought himself up with a start when he realised that he was staring with his mouth open and the elf in question had raised his eyebrows in amused query.

"I...I'm sorry." He stuttered. "I was looking for Gary...uh Eonwe, or Kim?"

The blond vision looked apologetic. "They are not currently at home." He said politely.

"Jim?" A familiar voice interrupted them and Jim beamed as he recognised Maedhros carrying a very sleepy Allie, small thumb in mouth, on his shoulder.

"Maedhros? I forgot you were staying with Kim and Eonwe at the moment." He bent down and kissed the sleepy little girl on the top of her head. "Bedtime?"

Maedhros grinned widely at him. "Yes, finally we are tired enough to go to sleep, but not without a great deal of protest and a few tantrums. Just let me get her in bed. Come on in".

He turned to Finrod, still holding the door open with a bemused expression on his face and spoke to him in rapid Sindarin. Jim heard his name mentioned in the middle and assumed that Maedhros was explaining who he was, then he galloped up the stairs making snorting horse noises while the little girl giggled sleepily.

Finrod bowed to Jim and ushered him along the corridor to a door at the rear. "My apologies, my friend, I had no idea you were friends with the Herald and his wife. I am Finrod Ingoldo, at your service. Erestor is in the kitchen making supper, Lord Eonwe and his wife are out at an important function, something they call a 'cocktail party', although why anyone should have a feast in honour of a cock's tail is a mystery to me!"

"Finrod..._the _Finrod? King of Nargothrond Finrod?"

Finrod stopped before pushing the door open and cocked an eyebrow at the young policeman. "You have heard of me? I am indeed _greatly_ honoured to think that my name has lived on."

"I...uh..." Jim was flustered. Then he remembered that he still had to introduce himself. "The name's Jim...Jim Moore. I was in Middle-earth during the War of Wrath along with Gary... er...Eonwe, Kim, Chief and Maedhros."

Finrod's smile was devastating in it's beauty. "Of course. Maedhros did say something of the sort."

"I had no idea you were here....um...._why _are you here?" Jim flushed as he realised just how policeman-like and suspicious he sounded. "Sorry, that was rude, there's no reason why you shouldn't be here." His voice trailed away in embarrassment.

Finrod laughed softly. "Do not trouble yourself so. I am here at the behest of the Valar and on my own account. Deeds left undone, so to speak. I am here to ensure that things which should have been destroyed before this modern time began, _are _destroyed once and for all. As I understand it from the Valar, Lord Eonwe and the others are here for the same reason, but please...let me take you into the kitchen. From the wonderful aroma I do believe that Erestor has created his usual miracles in cooking and you must be hungry. Have you travelled far?"

He pushed the door open and the 'wonderful aroma' wafted out. Jim's mouth watered. "Supper would be great, I haven't eaten since early this morning. I had a heavy night waiting for the victim of a vicious attack to wake up."

Erestor was bustling around the kitchen, stirring here, pouring there and checking the contents of the modern range cooker. He looked up and smiled in delight at the sight of Jim. He dropped the ladle he was carrying onto the worktop, wiped his hands on the tea towel makeshift apron and greeted Jim with a warm embrace.

The Jim Moore prior to the War of Wrath would have been intensely embarrassed at being hugged by another male, but the Jim post War of Wrath understood that these Elves were quite demonstrative with those they considered friends, so he returned the embrace willingly.

Erestor held him at arm's length and examined him critically. "You look well child...I am still not sure about the beard, but it _does_ give you a certain distinguishing aura. You also seem tired and a little worried, so do sit and have some tea. Maedhros will join us shortly once the little one is safely asleep and we will all talk. I assume that your grave mien means that you have come with concerns that you wished Lord Eonwe to advise you on."

Jim chuckled. "Thank you, I think the beard makes me look a little older, which is not a bad thing in my profession. You also look well. It's true that I was wanting to talk to Gary about something that's just come up, but to be honest, your opinion would also be very much appreciated."

Erestor pushed him into a chair and went to pour him some tea. "Then sit, let your concerns not trouble you until later. We will eat, then we will all talk and see if we cannot lift your burden even a little."

Jim leaned back against his chair and sipped the tea, letting all sounds of the here and now slip into the background. Erestor and Finrod conversed softly in that silvery flowing language of theirs and it was very soothing. He honestly hadn't realised just how tired he was. Through the fog of exhaustion he was aware that the two Elves glanced at him every now and again during their whispered conversation. Finrod left the room and came back a couple of minutes later holding something that looked like green herbs in his hand.

Only a few seconds later a sweet cleansing smell permeated the room and Jim felt the black exhaustion he had been experiencing all day float away.

In his dreams he kept seeing a tall, dark haired man standing beside a low white marble wall. Jim tried to make out the man's features, but he was too far away. He was, however, very much aware that the man was smiling at him.

He had a sudden aching longing to run towards this stranger, but in the way of dreams the strength of his legs waned and the closer he tried to get, the further away the dark haired man got. Yet he was not afraid, there was a goodness and light in that dream and it chased the darkness away, if only for a short time.

Jim finally slept and there were no dreams to trouble him.

ooOoo

**A few hours later**

"Jim?" A soft, but familiar voice intruded into his sleep. When he opened his eyes he found himself staring into Eonwe's calm blue eyes.

He struggled to sit upright. "What...what time is it? Oh god did I sleep through supper?"

Eonwe laughed softly. "There is a warm plate of food in the oven for you, put there by Erestor who decided not to wake you earlier. He, Finrod and Maedhros decided that you needed the rest badly and I agree with them. Get yourself refreshed a little, come downstairs and we can talk while you eat"

He helped Jim sit upright properly and for the first time Jim realised that somehow the three Elves had put him on the bed fully dressed. Eonwe fetched a damp flannel from the bathroom and handed it to Jim who wiped his face and hands to refresh himself.

Moments later he was sitting in the warm kitchen stuffing down the delicious dinner after having hugged Kim in greeting.

"You both look rather splendid." He said after observing that Kim was wearing very elegant evening clothes and Eonwe had his Mess Dress on .

Kim grinned. "Big_ big_ occasion with lots of important people. Generals, royalty and big businessmen by the score. The food was good but the rest of it was all very boring."

Eonwe regarded Jim quietly, he searched out any sign of the darkness that Erestor and Finrod had described, but there was none other than a slight residue, however he used his own light to pervade Jim's soul to give him ease. Finally he smiled at the young man.

"A description of our evening can wait, but I perceive that your troubles cannot. Something has happened. Tell us about it." He sat back and stretched his long legs out in front of him, smiling his thanks at at his wife as she handed him a steaming cup of tea.

Jim nodded and he found himself recounting the events of the previous evening and the day to them all. They listened in silence, but the troubled looks that had appeared on their faces told Jim that this was not all in his imagination and even stranger, that it was not unexpected news. Jim wasn't sure whether he should be worried or reassured by that.

"I'm not sure what to do." He finished, pushing his plate away. Erestor got up and took it to the sink. "I spoke to my gaffer, but I didn't think it was a good idea to go rabbiting on about werewolves. I'd spend the next year in therapy with the Police shrink. He thinks the wild animal thing is just one of those urban myths about large wild cats being loose in Britain. He reckons that the lad was probably drunk and mistook what he saw... that his attacker was a human with a knife."

"And is that what you think?" Asked Eonwe.

Jim shook his head. "His injuries are consistent with an attack by a wild animal. They look like teeth and claw marks. Not human teethmarks either. I think if they had taken swabs of his injuries before they were treated they would have found animal saliva or human saliva at the very least, but nobody did. It was a Saturday night, the Accident and Emergency department was busy with the usual drunks having fights or marital spats and I think they smelled the booze on him and assumed it was more of the same. They just dismissed him as the usual Saturday night drunk."

"If this is so, why were you called in?" Eonwe looked puzzled. "Surely they would only have called the police in if they believed there was foul play."

Jim sighed. "We were called in because of the statement given by the night bus driver and two of the passengers. They were the ones who found him, interrupted the attack in fact. He was waiting for the bus when he was attacked. The driver was approaching the stop and he saw the young lad, Jeff, being jumped on. The attacker saw the lights of the bus and pushed Jeff into the road in front of the bus. The driver slammed the brakes on and he was lucky not to finish the lad off under his wheels. The young couple on the bus corroborate the story."

"They all saw this werewolf clearly?" Finrod inquired.

Again a shake of the head. "This is where is gets a bit fuzzy. The driver says that it was a big man, very tall, very powerfully built. Jeff Harris is a slim young man, he would have had trouble fighting anyone that big off. The young couple disagree on what they saw. The boy says the same as the driver, but the girl, she says that to her it looked like a massive dog with grey fur standing on its hind legs. She says she saw the dog's teeth tearing a chunk out of its victim. However they were all rattled enough to get the police involved. If it was a dog, then the local cops will have to hunt it down in case it's rabid, if it was another man, then he made an unprovoked attack on someone else at a bus stop and it has to be investigated.

"And you drew the short straw." Said Maedhros.

Jim nodded again. "Most junior detective in the unit, everyone else is involved in some murder case, so I got the Shaggy Dog Story investigation as my Gaffer put it." He looked at them all and there was pleading in his expression. "I honestly don't know what to do. My Gaffer says to leave it, unless the lad is intending to press charges. I don't want to, I heard what Jeff had to say and he was scared, badly scared, but there was something else under the surface, something more than fear. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it bothered me."

Eonwe got up from the chair and paced to the large kitchen window. He stared out at the dark back garden for a moment.

"Judging by the accepted myth of the werewolf currently believed today through the media of horror movies, the werewolf either kills outright or bites and claws his victims who then either die horrifically or they survive and become a werewolf themselves." Eonwe spoke without turning around.

Jim nodded his assent. "That would be right and prior to our little jaunt in ancient Middle-earth, I would have scoffed at the idea that werewolves were real, but after what I have seen with my own eyes I know that things aren't that straightforward. But I thought that the werewolves of Morgoth's time were fallen Maiar."

Eonwe turned and smiled sadly at him. "Yes they were. They were of my brethren who joined with Morgoth and went to Middle-earth with him. There were many who did the same and became creatures of darkness who served him. Draugluin, the father of the werewolves under Morgoth's control was one, Thuringwethil the vampire was another and the Valarauko...the Balrogs were also fallen Maiar. However as far as I know Draugluin and his folk could not pass on their wolven nature by biting or clawing another. They physically sired those who came after them. That does not mean that some of his kind did not survive from ancient times and have perpetuated the species nor that the modern sciences have not found some way to also perpetuate the species in this day and age by passing on some kind of infection. Most of these urban myths have truth somewhere within them, even if the truth is a little embellished for the sake of drama."

Jim turned pale. "So this creature that attacked Jeff _could_ be a werewolf then? And he might be turning into one?"

Eonwe nodded gravely. "Indeed it is possible I suppose. I think it may be a good idea if we were able to meet this young man ourselves. Would that be possible?"

Jim thought for a moment. "I suppose that would be all right, as long as he's willing to talk to us again. He seemed pretty freaked out earlier today, but we could go to the hospital and visit him."

The others exchanged glances and Finrod finally spoke up. "Perhaps I should be the one to go with Jim to speak to this young man. After all, out of everyone here, I have had the closest encounters with Draugluin's spawn.

Eonwe nodded. "Agreed. I have a busy day tomorrow as it is, the General has high ranking visitors and as Chief of Staff I am expected to be there. So be it. Finrod will go with you to speak to this Jeff Harris and assess the situation."

Jim sighed with relief. "I am so glad you guys believed me. I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't just want to leave it."

The Herald smiled at him. "As to that, we would have believed you anyway, we know you are not given to tall tales or untruths. However there has been another incident that lead us to believe that the spawn of Draugluin are part of this darkness creeping over Middle-earth and there is something evil and powerful behind it. Finrod will explain this to you on the way to the hospital. In the meantime we should all get some sleep. It is late now and I think tomorrow will be a long day for all of us."

As they all prepared to retire for the night Jim could be heard muttering to himself.

"_Have a nice break from the Forest of Dean they said, take a transfer to a nice detective job in the Met in the big city they said. It'll be a nice change from all that business in Middle-earth, they said. And where am I? Slap bang in the middle of a bunch of werewolves, that's where I am! So much for a peaceful bloody life after fighting orcs and evil."_

"I _like_ him." Finrod commented to nobody in particular.

ooOoo


	8. Wolves at the door

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author Note: **Oh dear I think this story is in for the long rather than the short haul. Again thank you for the reviews and the comments. I always seem to end up with complicated plot lines, none of this boy 'meets girl, boy and girl fight off unimaginable evil, boy gets girl' stuff for me! Rest assured that any characters that I introduce in these initial chapters are all necessary components for the story.

"**WILLOW**: I'm sorry about how this ended up, with me shooting you and all.

**OZ:** "It's okay. I'm...I'm sorry I almost ate you."

**-- ****Oz and Willow, Buffy the Vampire Slayer**

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 8 – Wolves at the door**

As long as anyone had known him in the small town of Smithers in north west British Columbia Hal Kenwood had been a loner. Granted he wasn't one of those crusty miserable lonely types who refused to talk to strangers passing by the door, nor did he chase children or fire on unsuspecting tourists or interlopers with a shotgun. In fact although Hal was a taciturn looking man, he was quite friendly and hospitable. He was also popular enough in the local bar.

However, he did not habitually seek out company. He travelled once or twice a month from his cabin up in the mountains down to Smithers for supplies, usually accompanied by his dog, a huge shaggy animal of indeterminate parentage known simply by the name of Bob.

On those occasions where he did his trips into town, he usually ate the special in a local diner and had a couple of beers with a Jack Daniels chaser in Mott's Bar which was situated on the road just outside of town. There he would talk to contemporaries, shooting the breeze, grumbling about this and that, the way people do in bars and then he would head on home.

He didn't like to leave the cabin too long because of Rasputin, his cat, named so because his owners had tried to get rid of him so many times and so many different ways, just like the Russians tried to rid themselves of their Rasputin. The fact was that no matter how hard they tried, the cat always came back. The last time they tried to kill him, the bedraggled feline was fortunate enough to be found by Hal, who fixed his hurts, fed him and Rasputin had been there ever since.

When the Walt Disney productions put the area on the map in their movie Antarctica at the nearby Hudson's Bay Mountains, he was duly horrified by the descent of the movie making population on Smithers. The wintertime was his time for peace in a beautiful place and he mourned the loss of that peace, just as he welcomed the influx of townie visitors intent on wild water challengers, because that was where part of his income came from. He was one of the guides for the river rafting which is one of the highlights of that place.

The other part of his income, a pension from the US Military, meant that with the river rafting, he was not a poor man and could choose to be as remote as he wished.

It never once occurred to him that being alone up there in a cabin where his nearest neighbours were ten miles away and the nearest town thirty miles away might not be such a good thing. Nothing much frightened Hal. A stint in the US Army Rangers had taught him how to handle himself and service in Vietnam had toughened him up to the point where not many people would challenge him, unless they were feeling very brave or suicidal. However he didn't make a big deal out of being tough, he just was and people knew it just by looking at him.

So the feeling, when it came, came as a complete surprise to him.

It all started one Fall evening when the late afternoon sun has that chill on it and the leaves are beginning to turn. Hal was in his usual place at that time, sitting on a bench on the stoop with a beer. He had just finished the last wild river rafting expedition of the season and picked the animals up from a local cattery that took them when he was away a couple of days at a time.

He sighed and took a sip of the beer. Life was good, a cozy winter lay ahead of him and he loved the wintertime, even when the snow threatened to drift so far up the cabin walls that he had trouble opening the door. This was the time when he and the animals spent the short days beside a roaring fire and the evenings doing much the same.

Everything seemed normal...that is it did until Bob started to growl. Hal put a hand down to soothe the big dog and was surprised to see that his hackles were up.

"What's up doc?" He fondled the animal's ears, an act that usually sent the large dog into floppy ecstasy. This evening, it didn't have the usual effect and since Bob was a creature of habit, Hal knew that something was seriously up.

He put the beer down on a small table and stood up staring intently around the immediate area in the front of the cabin, but he couldn't see or hear anything amiss. All was still and it was _that_ stillness that alerted him to the fact that something really _was_ wrong.

Bob's growl grew louder and more threatening and the hair stood up on Hal's neck. His frown grew deeper and this time he stepped off the stoop and stood in the front yard swinging his gaze in a wide vista that took in not just the front of the cabin, but the side where his pickup truck was parked and the other side where the trees and bushes stood thicker near the kitchen window.

Not for the the first time he mentally kicked himself for not clearing those trees and bushes. They were _far_ too close to the cabin. He just never seemed to find the time to get around to it in the spring and summer when the weather was better.

Hal strained to sense what it was that was different about the silence, but nothing immediately leaped to mind. It was only when a slight breeze rustled the leaves that realisation suddenly fell on him like a ton of bricks.

Apart from Bob's spooky growling, there were _no _other animal sounds. No rustling of small creatures in the bushes, no birdsong... no nothing.

Bob was, by now, down on the floor. His ears were flattened and the growl had become a whine. Hal was assailed by a horrible unreasonable feeling that something, or perhaps a number of somethings, were creeping up on him through the thick undergrowth. Afterwards, he couldn't explain what made him take the course of action that he did. Just a hideous, overwhelming sense of impending danger and the feeling that he needed to run, to get away, as far away as possible; a sixth sense that warned of a danger that he wouldn't be able to deal with for once.

"Come on boy." He whistled softly to the dog and strode into the house. Bob slunk after him nearly on his belly.

Hal went into the deep kitchen cupboard that recessed way under the stairs and pulled out Rasputin's travel basket. He tried to do everything calmly without rush, but that feeling of being slowly crept up on refused to budge and panic picked at the edge of reason.

He put Rasputin's blanket in the basket and slung some pouches of pet food and biscuits into his pack along with his personal papers like his cheque book and passport. He went into the small passageway that ultimately led to the stairs up to the next level, quietly opened the door that led into the carport where his truck was and put the cat basket on the floor.

He stood for a moment and methodically checked his wallet to make sure that his credit card was there, then he went in search of the cat.

Bob followed him closely up the stairs almost as if he was stuck to him with glue, Hal searched the bathroom and the two bedrooms which were the only rooms upstairs and finally found Rasputin hiding under the spare room bed. It took him ten unnerving minutes to collar the terrified cat and drag him out, a action that resulted in long painful and angry scratches on both hands. Bob sat nervously by the door watching the whole painful operation with something close to pleading and anxiety in his chocolate brown eyes.

Hal stood up, firmly tucked the cat under his arm and that's when he heard the noise downstairs. It was just a quiet little noise, as though the wind had blown up and knocked something down from a table through an open window. He remembered that the small window into the living room from the stoop was open. Normally he would have sighed and gone down to see what it was, but that sixth sense again told him not to.

In fact every hair was standing up on his head by this time and a mantra was beginning to thread its way through his brain.

_Get out of there...get out of there...getoutoftherenowyou FOOL!_

He put a finger against his lips to Bob, hoping like hell that the animal would understand the gesture, the cat had gone deathly quiet but Hal could feel the trembling of the animal under his arm. They all crept down the stairs and got halfway before one of the stairs creaked alarmingly loudly. Hal and the dog froze for a long minute which seemed to stretch into hours before they had the courage to move again. They slipped through the open door into the carport and Hal opened the truck door as quietly as he could. Even so the lock made a metallic snicking noise which sounded as loud as an explosion to the terrified man.

Again he froze, but mentally pulled himself up and slid the cat basket and his pack onto the seat. For once Rasputin made no complaints about being pushed into the basket; normally he made enough disapproving noise to wake the dead. Hal clicked the catch shut and pushed the basket onto the floor in between the front and the back seat. Bob needed no urging either. He jumped into the truck with alacrity and hunkered down on the floor beside his companion.

Hal's shotgun lay on the seat where he had left it earlier and in the glove compartment there was a handgun which he took out and also laid on the passenger seat.

He then jumped into the driver seat, turned the ignition and the engine leaped into life. As it did, Hal heard the sound of breaking glass, as if something or someone had just jumped straight through or thrown something through the large patio doors that opened from the kitchen and dining room side of the house.

In the eerie silence of the night and even above the noise of the engine, he also heard the most bloodcurdling howl he had ever heard in his entire life and if he had not been made of sterner stuff he would have let go of his bladder then and there. Instead he slammed his foot on the accelerator and the truck shot forward into the night which had fallen heavily since he had started to make his frantic preparations for flight.

As the truck bumped and heaved crazily down the dirt road that led up to the cabin, he hunched over the wheel and tried to concentrate on keeping it from turning over. He deliberately didn't look in the rear view mirror until he was almost at the junction of his driveway and the road into town and when he did look what he saw froze the blood in his veins.

Loping easily after the car were massive grey wolf-like shapes with slavering jaws and mean, glowing amber eyes, but these were like no other wolves Hal had ever seen. There was an intelligence in those eyes that spoke of something else. Some primal memory sprang up in his mind and he knew without a doubt that their presence at the cabin that night was no coincidence. Those creatures had come for him and for him alone.

Someone or something wanted him out of the way...badly wanted him out of the way.

He wrenched the steering wheel to the left and skidded onto the road with a screech of tires and a smell of burning rubber. He then put the pedal to the metal and did not stop until he reached the highway. He felt numb and terrified and the car pointed itself in the direction of Vancouver more by accident than intention.

It was only hours later when he saw the lights of Vancouver twinkling in front of him and the bridge from Stanley Park that he realised that his cheeks were wet with tears.

It was a very weary and rattled Hal and animals that finally pulled into his friend's drive in Kitsilano. He knew he would be welcome there and it was somewhere safe to plan his next move. Part of him knew that he should have probably gone into the town and reported the incident to the local RCMP, but that overwhelming need to put many miles between himself and the town he had lived in for almost twenty years had been too strong.

Still, he knew that he needed to find out what those things were and, if he was the only resident of the area under attack by them, he needed to know _why_ they had apparently singled him out. There was nobody better at solving that kind of puzzle than his old friend in Vancouver.

ooOoo

**The ruins of Imladris, circa present day**

Thranduil shut the mobile phone off and looked thoughtfully at it for a moment. "That was Lord Eonwe." He said finally. "Apparently there have been some rather unnerving developments. We need to be wary, events are beginning to move forward."

Elrond poked the fire once more and stood up. Celebrian was asleep in one of the thick quilted sleeping bags and Glorfindel had taken himself off to the perimeter to keep watch. They had arrived at what was left of Imladris in the afternoon and spent the rest of the day wandering around the ruins of what had once been the hub of Elven activity.

It had been rather depressing to see for themselves what had happened to the peaceful realm of Imladris after an Ice Age had finished with it and they all now understood why the twins had seemed so quiet and disillusioned when they finally arrived in Valinor.

"Events?" He queried.

Thranduil nodded. "There has been some trouble. Apparently Finrod Ingoldo is here in Middle-earth and Kim went to meet him, there was an incident that interrupted their journey home involving what the Herald believes are werewolves. He suggests that we made an early start and stay on the main roads, no diverging off onto side roads just in case. We need to meet up with Haldir and Elladan sooner rather than later I think." He glanced at the sleeping Celebrian. "Go and join your wife in repose Elrond. Glorfindel and I will stand watch tonight. Best not to talk too much about these things in the open, I can tell you everything the Herald told me when we are in the car tomorrow in the light of day."

Elrond nodded and stepped over to where his sleeping bag had been placed beside Celebrian's. He lay down and wrapped the sleeping bag over him, but as he did, he saw Thranduil withdraw a lethal, sleek looking gun from his pack and push a clip into it with a sharp businesslike click. He then went to take up his watch on the other side of the makeshift camp and Elrond tried to settle down to rest which was long in coming.

The closer they got to the final resting place of Arwen Undomiel, Evenstar of her people, the more restless and anxious he became and this talk of werewolves had merely added to his feelings of unease. Werewolves had not been heard of among the Eldar since the War of Wrath, why were they suddenly emerging now to attack people? Was someone calling them forth and if so, for what purpose?

The more he thought about it, the more questions presented themselves. Suddenly his and Celebrian's simple quest had become a bit more than _just_ finding descendants of Estel's and Arwen's line.

ooOoo


	9. The Eldar Detection Agency

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author Note: **Once again many thanks for the review. Once of my reviewers rightfully pointed out that I should at least have indicated just how long Hal's journey took him. Smithers is very far up in the north west section of British Columbia and is many miles from Vancouver. It would have taken Hal a day, perhaps a day and a half to reach his friend in Kitsilano which is a suburb of Vancouver and he would have passed through Prince Rupert on the way. So many thanks to Chrisscientist for that. Don't worry about nitpicking, I would rather people did that if something bothers them. I do try to make the stories as accurate in detail as I can so any suggestions are _always_ welcome. And incidentally Mott's Bar is _entirely_ an invention of my own. I have no idea if there is a bar just outside of Smithers, nor do I know the name of it. It just sounded right for the purpose of the story.

**Thranduil:** Ellfine, I agree Thranduil is a cool character, but then he _always_ seemed that way to me despite the lack of real information from Tolkien about the Elven King. Although Tolkien indicated that all the Eldar would either go west or fade never seemed like options for Thranduil to me. He was far too flamboyant and gutsy a character to fade and far too connected to Middle-earth to just up and leave. Thranduil, like Maglor, has had to adjust to the world of men and like Maglor has all the street cred of a modern age. He's 'grown up' with cars, modern technology and modern weaponry. If anything he's more of an asset to Eonwe than Finrod is at the moment, although I have a feeling Finrod is a quick study.

**Hal Kenwood:** There is a definite reason for this guy popping up which will become clearer later on. There are two main quests in this story, that of Eonwe's task set to him by Iluvator to help with a growing darkness and evil and the other quest is Elrond and Celebrian's search for closure with regard to their daughter and Aragorn's descendants. And in a way both of these quests are linked up. Hal Kenwood is a link in the chain. And if I have to tell you more at this juncture I will _have _to kill you!

"I saw six men kicking and punching the mother-in-law. My neighbour said 'Are you going to help?' I said 'No, Six should be enough.' "

**-- Les Dawson, British stand up comedian (Deceased 1993)**

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 9 – The Eldar Detection Agency**

**Bermondsey, Borough of Southwark, London**

Jim Moore rapped on the door of 57 Bermondsey Terrace for the fourth time. This time he made it the imperative, autocratic knock of a policeman. "Jeff Harris, it's the Metropolitan Police, open up please."

"He's not there, haven't seen him for a couple of days. Is he in trouble?" A middle aged woman had appeared from one of the adjoining terraced houses, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

Jim stopped banging on the door. "Do you know where he might be?" He didn't answer the woman's question.

She shook her head. "No idea mate. He comes and goes like most youngsters these days. Haven't seen him since..." She stopped and thought for a moment. "...since he came in from work, probably about five thirty on Friday. I know that because I was coming home from the shops and he said hello to me. Haven't seen him since."

"Does he live alone?" Jim asked, but he had a sinking feeling that his bird had flown.

The woman shrugged. "As far as I know. He's brought girls back a few times, but I ain't seen no regular women around."

"No men either?"

The woman laughed her head off. "Lordy, no, he ain't gay, _definitely_ ain't gay."

She gave Jim a wink that hinted of a leer and Jim found he did not want to know how she knew that Jeff Harris wasn't gay. He blushed to the roots of his hair at the thought that presented itself.

"I meant house mates." He said stiffly, trying to stand on his dignity as an officer of the law. "Did he share the house with any male friends?"

She shook her head again. "No, as far as I know he lives alone, but he does have a sister." She stopped for a moment then shouted through her open front door. "'Ere, Gloria, can you remember the name of Jeff's sister?"

"Who?" Came the irascible reply from an unseen person in the house.

"My daughter." The woman said to Jim. "She's more Jeff's age group and she hangs out with that crowd down the local sometimes. Jeff Harris, Gloria, didn't he have a sister?"

The young woman who came to the door was a younger mirror image of her mother and gave truth to the notion that if a man wanted to know how his wife would turn out he should look at her mother. She had the same blonde hair which owed more to a hair colourant than it did to nature, but was slimmer than her more buxom mother. She eyed the young policeman up and down and Jim saw plainly that she had the selfsame leering expression her mother did.

"Who wants to know?" She put her hands on her hips and looked Jim up and down with pursed lips. "You're a copper ain't you? What's he done wrong?"

Jim sighed deeply and gathered up all of his patience. "I am not at liberty to tell you, as far as I know he has done nothing wrong...yet. I just want to speak to him. Do you have any idea where he might be?"

The girl scrutinised him through narrowed eyes. Finally she seemed to come to the conclusion that he genuinely needed to know where Jeff Harris was. "Last time I saw him was Thursday down the pub. He don't spend his Friday nights locally, he goes clubbing in the West End. He does have a sister though, lives in one of the high rises. Dunno as he sees much of her though."

"Do you have her address by any chance?"

Finrod, who had remained in the car was watching and listening to the interchange. He admired the young man's persistence in the face of a combined resistance by these two second born females. From an initial view mortal women had not changed much since his days on Middle-earth. Tough and uncompromising, he could see a lifetime of struggling to make something of her life in the mother. The girl just seemed to want to be obstructive for the sake of it. Something to do with Jim being an officer of the law, he surmised.

The girl laughed, but it was a brittle laugh with no joy or humour in it. "I don't know the address, but she lives in one of them blocks in Crucifix Lane, near the railway line. Just ask around there for Lily Harris, someone's bound to know where she lives, I think she goes to the Anchor Tap pub on Horsleydown Road of a Friday night. Someone there might be able to tell you."

Jim nodded his thanks and got back in the car. He was about to pull away when the younger woman suddenly shoved her face in his open passenger window and startled him.

"Any chance of an introduction to your gorgeous friend here?" She leaned over showing a considerable amount of cleavage at Finrod who stared at her bemusedly.

"He's married." Was all Jim could think of to say. He pulled away abruptly leaving the girl standing on the pavement with her hands on her hips and a furious expression on her face. Finrod turned to look at her through the rear window just in time to see her making a gesture at the car with two of her fingers.

"What does this mean?" Finrod made the same gesture at Jim, who choked and laughed.

"I'll explain later." he said, grinning madly at the image of a tall beautiful Elf Lord and former King of an ancient Elven Realm putting two fingers up at him in a modern obscene gesture.

ooOoo

For the second time that day Jim found himself outside a front door about to knock. This time Finrod stood beside him apparently oblivious to the admiring crowd that had collected along the outside of a long row of a large multi-level dwelling which Jim had explained were called flats.

They, or at least Finrod, had garnered quite a bit of attention when they had pulled up in the litter strewn car park at ground level of the block of flats. Finrod's nose had wrinkled slightly from the smell of old refuse, cooking and also the acrid smell of burning rubber which was coming from an area behind the flats.

"Probably kids burning tires near the railway line." Jim explained. "The British Rail Transport Police do try to police the area but they simply don't have the manpower to do it effectively. Besides... " He shrugged. "Kids will always find a way to do things."

"Do the parents of these children not see to their teaching?" Finrod inquired.

He tried to imagine a group of elflings sitting on a bare patch of ground burning anything they could find, but failed miserably. The Eldar were not given to procreating as effusively as the second born. To them a child was a huge gift, one to be cherished. Yet from what he had seen, these mortal children just seemed to run around unsupervised.

Jim snorted. "Parents around places like this don't teach their children anything, unless it's to skin up for them. Most of the kids are accidents from a night of drunken sex and something to be put up with, not cherished and guided. Not that I am saying that _every_ parent here is like that, there are a few decent ones, but for every one responsible parent, there are three who don't give a damn. Besides, the more kids they have the more benefits they can claim off the State.

Finrod did not pretend to understand about the references to benefits or the State, but he had seen the second born in Middle-earth and he did know that they tended to spawn many children even if they didn't have enough to feed them. From what Jim was saying somehow the ruling classes of this land subsidised these many offspring, but he couldn't even pretend to understand the mechanics of the situation.

He stared askance as a mortal vehicle which was standing on bricks and had no doors. A number of young men were leaning against it, one of them had a white cylindrical object between his fingers. He put it in his mouth and blew out a thin stream of smoke. When he had finished he passed it to the lad next to him, who also took a deep draw. Finrod was immediately reminded of the Naugrim and their fondness for what they called 'pipeweed'.

He caught at Jim's arm and gestured to the car and the young men. "Are they building that vehicle? I see it has no wheels such as yours has, nor does it have doors."

Jim cast a glance at the vehicle and as soon as he did he caught the eye of the young man who now had possession of the cigarette. The youngster pulled a face, surreptitiously nipped the end of the cigarette and dropped it to the ground, grinding into a clump of coarse grass growing out of the walkway.

Jim smiled to himself, he knew from experience that these kids were sharing a spliff and people around here could spot a copper miles away.

"I think it's more a case of stripping the car down, not building it up." He chuckled. "The burning rubber smell you are smelling right now is probably the tires that kids just removed from the car."

Finrod stared at him, mildly horrified. "They would take things from something that does not belong to them? What will the owner say?"

Jim shrugged. "I think that if the owner comes from round here, he would have more sense than to leave the car there in the first place. It's probably stolen. They'll have taken all the useful parts to sell and what's left is just a shell."

He took out his notebook and made a note of the description of the car, the front license plate had gone, but the rear plate was still there hanging half off the car. Even from where he stood Jim could see that someone had defaced it. He walked over to the vehicle intending to take a closer look and the young men scattered to the four corners. Jim ignored them and reached in through the broken window taking the tax disc out of the holder stuck to the front windscreen. He put it in his pocket and rejoined Finrod.

"I can trace the owner through the disc." He explained. "It'll be on computer record."

They headed on up the stairs to the third floor of the flats followed by a steadily growing crowd of children and adults alike. Jim felt, for all the world, like a bizarre Pied Piper, only it was the beautiful Finrod who was actually playing the tune.

ooOoo

As Jim raised his hand to knock on number twenty three, Finrod gently grasped his hand and nodded at the door. It was open a slight crack and appeared to be damaged, so Jim pushed it open further with one tentative finger.

Their audience, it had to be said, offered nothing in the way of advice or information. They remained in interested, but unhelpful silence, as if waiting for the next act of a play at the theater.

"Lily Harris? Miss Harris?" He called through the open door. "My name is Detective Constable Moore from the Metropolitan Police. I wonder if we can have word with you please."

There was no answer, but they could hear muffled sounds of movement inside.

Jim pushed the door open further and prepared for any kind of onslaught or even a barrage of verbal abuse, but apart from the noise, which they could now hear was a string of muttered obscenities, nobody came into the passageway.

Even from where they stood at the front door both Jim and Finrod could see that something or someone had raged through the passageway, knocking a table with a vase of artificial flowers flying, photographs from the walls and culminating in considerable damage to the door handle which had been completely wrenched off the door leaving a massive chunk missing. All the mess lay on the floor in splinters of wood and shards of glass.

Jim straightened his shoulders and stepped into the flat followed more slowly by Finrod who had to stoop under the doorway.

"Don't touch anything." Jim warned Finrod who nodded. "This could be a crime scene. Someone definitely tried to do a job on this."

"I doubt he would still be here." Finrod observed. "No robber I know would make as much noise as this one appears to or remain around to receive visitors."

Jim smiled grimly and put his hand out to open the door from behind which the muttering was coming. As he did so it flew open and he found himself being prodded backwards by a young woman bristling with fury.

"Come back have you?" She spat out. "I'm telling you that you're going to pay for this damage you bastard, I don't care if you _are _family."

She stopped dead when she realised that she wasn't accosting someone she knew, but a total stranger. Two total strangers in fact, one of whom cast a golden glow in the dingy flat interior.

"Who the _hell_ are you?" She demanded.

ooOoo


	10. Memories of joy in present grief

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author Note: **Thanks to Ellfine and Chisscientist and their reviews. Although I do say that readers don't have to review my work, it is always nice to read the comments of those that do.

For those whose geography of Europe is not very good. Thranduil and co are travelling by vehicle across Europe after having crossed the Channel into Belgium. They are roughly following the same route that the Hobbits and Strider took, although for the purposes of this story I am taking it that the Ice Age separated the island of Britain from the rest of Europe, whereas in the Hobbits' day it would have been joined to Europe. Their reasons for doing it like this are obvious, Elrond, Celebrian and Glorfindel would have a natural curiosity as to what had happened to the places they knew so well so long ago, and especially Imladris, in the intervening millennia between the Third Age and present day.

From Imladris, or southern Switzerland, their route takes them across what used to be the Redhorn Pass, and is now one of the larger Swiss mountain passes and down into the valley area of Alpine Italy. They will come out roughly at the same place that the Dimrill Gate would have been and will then travel a little further south to Milan in northern Italy and then pick up a route along the French Mediterranean coastline to where Elladan and Haldir are waiting for them.

Elladan and Haldir travelled directly to the south of France near the borders of Spain, to the region of Languedoc-Rosillion which I have chosen as the most likely area for the Golden Wood to have existed. Their mode of travel has differed greatly from the way the others are travelling as you will read as the chapter unfolds.

"When I am dead, my dearest,  
Sing no sad songs for me;  
Plant thou no roses at my head,  
Nor shady cypress tree:  
Be the green grass above me  
With showers and dewdrops wet;  
And if thou wilt, remember,  
And if thou wilt, forget. "

**-- Christina Rossetti **

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 10 – Memories of joy in present grief**

**The Aosta Valley in the Italian Alps, circa present day**

Elrond had to admit that the Valley they were now travelling through was spectacular, ringed with mountain ranges on all sides, each of which had three high snow-topped peaks. Although the actual valley was quite harsh in landscape, it had a wild rocky beauty all of its own.

"Do the mountains have names?" He wondered and was not aware he had spoken his thoughts out loud until Thranduil answered him.

"The main mountain ranges that enclose the Aosta Valley are called the Matterhorn, Monte Rosa and Mont Blanc. In our day we knew them as Caradhras, Fanuidhol and Celebdil. We're actually heading straight south now down towards the Italian province of Piedmont."

They all craned their necks around to try and see _any_ familiarity in the mountain ranges.

"I can stop at a lookout spot if you want." Thranduil sounded amused. "There's one a couple of kilometers down the road if I remember correctly. You can get a better look there than through the car windows. Also you will be able to plainly see that all three peaks seem to have remained the same as they were millennia ago."

"It's very imposing." Celebrian said slowly, striving valiantly to take it all in. "The climate on the other side of Moria is every bit as harsh as I remember it."

"I think it might have something to do with the fact that the mountain ranges block the mild winds from the ocean. It's generally very cold in winter here and it rains in the summer. Lot of mist, especially in the summer, but they do have lovely peaceful summertimes here. It's mostly an agricultural or wine making region. In the winter they get a lot of snow, so there are a couple of winter sports centers here. They get a lot of tourists both winter and summer."

Thranduil felt a bit like he was turning into a travelogue, but he understood the others' need to relate to the land around them.

"Not many people around." Glorfindel observed. "I imagine the harshness of the climate still puts people off from settling here."

Before Thranduil could reply to this Celebrian let out an exclamation. "The lake! Look! It's so beautiful. I remember the lake."

She pointed excitedly out of the window at a long, almost peanut shaped lake that lay at the bottom of the slopes of a small mountain. The water was incredibly clear and a deep blue. No ripples muddied the mirror-like surface.

"Mirrormere." Murmured Elrond.

Thranduil nodded. "Yes." He said soberly. "That at least has not changed much. Although the stone set there in honour of Durin is no longer standing. There is a lay bye up ahead. Do you want to stop? We can't get any closer to the lake without walking I'm afraid. There is a track but I would prefer not to get bogged down in it. We should also be able to get a decent view of the three main peaks as we head towards the lake."

"Do we have time?" Asked Elrond.

Thranduil nodded again. "Of course we do." He checked his watch. "It's still quite early in the morning it should only take us minutes to get over there, but I _am_ aware of the Herald's warnings, I don't want to be caught here in a fairly isolated part of the valley on the roads after dark. We need to make Milan, which is the capital city of Piedmont, sooner rather than later and we still have a way to go after that until we reach Carcassone. As Glorfindel pointed out, this area is not heavily populated and if we were attacked out in the open here we would be _completely_ on our own. No help would be forthcoming."

The others agreed without argument. Eonwe's call and the information therein had unnerved all of them. They did not know how long reaching an arm the werewolves had and they had no wish to take any unnecessary chances.

It would have alarmed them very much to understand just _how _long reaching the arm of the werewolves actually was, as Hal Kenwood could have attested to across the water in Canada.

Thranduil turned off the main road onto a smaller, less well kept one and after driving a short way down that road he then pulled into a section of the road which appeared to have been deliberately built for vehicles to stop. They all duly piled out of the car and headed the short distance along a track across the rocky terrain towards the lake which gleamed tantalisingly clear and blue, like a smooth sided, but oddly shaped sapphire.

ooOoo

**The historic walled French city of Carcassone in the region of Languedoc-Rosillion, circa present day**

"How long until they arrive here do you think?"

Elladan took a sip of his wine and arched an eyebrow over at his companion whose nervousness was betrayed by the fact that he was twirling his empty wine glass around with long slender fingers.

"I imagine that they are somewhere in Italy at this moment." Elladan had opened a well thumbed map and consulted it. "We know that they did stop at Imladris and they took the Great St Bernard Pass, according to Thranduil's last check-in, so I estimate they should be travelling towards a region called Piedmont about now...unless of course they stopped to take in the scenery."

Haldir's face wore an irritated expression. "I do not like the fact that they are travelling by road. I should have travelled with them, Lord Eonwe's warning was quite explicit. Surely there was some faster and _safer_ way for them to travel that route and _still _stop at Imladris?"

"You mean the same way we travelled?" Elladan asked slyly.

Haldir shuddered. He had not taken well to flying, whereas the Peredhil had taken to it like a duck to water, enthralled with every little aspect of the experience, from the waiting in an airport lounge to sitting enclosed in a metal carrier thousands of feet in the air with nowhere to run to.

The Galadhrim on the other hand, had sat almost frozen with fear and hostility on the aircraft, desperately battling with an overwhelming desire to rage along to the doors of the plane and wrench them off their hinges. The only thing that had held him back was the sure and certain knowledge that they were something like twenty thousand feet in the air and even an Elf could not survive a fall that far. Elladan was still swearing three days later that he still bore the marks of Haldir's death grip on his arm as the plane had risen into the air.

"Relax." Elladan chuckled at the distaste on Haldir's face. "You only have to worry about the flight back to London now. And they have Glorfindel with them. As far as I know he is still a formidable warrior, as is Adar _and _Thranduil for that matter." He gestured the waiter over and ordered another bottle of wine. "This is a beautiful city in a lovely region. Granted the Mallorns are no longer here, but it_ is_ beautiful all the same in its own way. Enjoy the sun, the peace, the view and the wine while we still can."

Haldir nodded reluctantly. "I find it very strange that there is now a huge walled city around what was Cerin Amroth. Where there were Elanor and Niphredil there are now cobbled streets and no trees to speak of." He shuddered again. "This is no longer a place of peace here at the resting place of the Evenstar. Unspeakable acts have been carried out here in times gone by in the name of Iluvator. I can sense the blood spilled even now centuries later. Even more strange is the fact that a mound covered with sweet flowers in the Cathedral of St Michel churchyard has been left untouched for all this time."

Elladan shrugged and his tone of voice was saddened. "You heard what the guide said. The mound has achieved some sort of place in the myth and history of the church. It has long been revered as a holy place, even prior to and throughout the hideous events of earlier times. The grave of the Evenstar has become a place of pilgrimage down through the centuries even though those who come to it have no real idea whose grave they are honouring. It is an attestation to her greatness that it has survived even through the Ice Age."

Haldir glanced over at Elladan. "How long is it since you were here?"

Elladan thanked the waiter who had just opened another bottle of pale golden wine and put it in the ice bucket after pouring two more glassfuls for them. He frowned in thought. "Well... it was a long time ago even by our standards, but Elrohir and I came back with Celeborn, just prior to sailing west. We travelled to Imladris and then onwards to here from what was Mirkwood or Eryn Lasgalen. It was barely recognisable really, except for the miracle of the flowers springing up in patches over the mound. If it hadn't been for the flowers we would not have known where we were. But none of her spirit had remained and the Mallorns were no more. She had long since flown the Circles of the Earth. Daeradar swore he would never travel back there again because Arwen was no longer there and as far as I know he did not. He went to Imladris for a little while and then sailed."

Haldir watched idly as three young women, obviously tourists from their mode of dress, wandered past, exclaiming loudly about the shops and the 'quaint old stuff' in the city. He recognised from watching some television programmes that the accent of all three was Transatlantic. They were long legged, smooth skinned and tanned to that southern Californian perfection with long shining manes of hair. And they were _completely _out of place in an ancient city that had once been the home of Elves.

By this time, the three American girls had also spotted the two beautiful men seated at a table outside the Cafe. They stood giggling and whispering to each other on the other side of the cobbled street. After a couple of minutes they seated themselves at a table in the same Cafe, near to where Elladan and Haldir were seated and had ordered some drinks.

"How do you think your Adar and Naneth will react?" Haldir asked softly, totally ignoring the blatantly inviting look from the tallest girl of the three. She tossed her pony-tailed hair and pouted when she realised this divine looking creature was not taking the bait.

Elladan shook his head. He was not taking much notice of the girls either. His thoughts were too deep in painful memory. "I do not know." He replied sadly. "They have lived for millennia aching for some sort of closure over Arwen yet saying nothing of their pain, even to each other. Parents should never outlive their children. I think... I hope... that they will grieve and weep for their loss, as both Elrohir and I did that day she laid herself down and gave up her mortal life. Better that, than the unspent grief and the burden of words unsaid over the ages over the loss of their child. They need to grieve properly. Adar did not see her die as we did, he had already sailed, as you know. Naneth remembers Arwen as she was before _she_ sailed west. In their minds Arwen _still _lives here in Middle-earth, but she has moved on long ago and so must they."

Finally after much effort to gain the Elves' attention, one of the girls across the street took out her camera and took some pictures.

Had either Elladan or Haldir been more au fait with the notion of cameras and photographs than they were, they might have taken action to prevent such a thing. But they weren't and they didn't, and it was an innocent action that was to have some ramifications in the future.

However, on that sunny day in medieval Carcassone, nothing seemed untoward. The girls eventually finished their drinks and moved on after realising that neither man was displaying any interest, covertly _or_ overtly in any of them.

And Elladan and Haldir remained at the Cafe; they continued to drink their wine and wait patiently for the others to eventually join them.

ooOoo

**The home of Lily Harris, Bermondsey, London**

"You'd better come in then." Lily Harris said grudgingly after Jim had introduced himself and Finrod as police officers. She peered suspiciously at the beautiful Finrod with his long golden hair and angelic features. "He don't look much like a copper. I thought you all had short hair."

Jim flushed and Finrod just smiled. "He's plain clothes, undercover." Jim tried to explain.

The young woman gave Finrod an appreciative glance and a bark of laughter. "I'll bet there's a few who want to get under _his_ cover." She said dryly, but without any of the leering that had been present with the other two women.

Finrod choked back a peal of laughter. Despite the fact that this young woman spoke in the modern idiom her meaning was crystal clear. However he realised that this was not a situation to be taken lightly or in fun. He manipulated his face into what he hoped was the stern mien of a modern police officer, an expression that failed completely when he caught the sight of a child about seven months of age staring at him with huge blue eyes and sitting in what looked to him like a prison on the floor. Finrod had never been introduced to the concept of a playpen.

He immediately went over to the child and hunkered down beside him. He reached out with a finger and the child shuffled over on his bottom and dragged himself up onto very unsteady chubby feet by holding onto the bars. He immediately latched on to Finrod's offered finger and started gnawing at it enthusiastically. The Elf Lord gave a yelp of pain as sharp teeth sunk into the flesh. Lily came over and yanked the baby away quickly before he could actually do any lasting damage. The child smiled angelically at Finrod around his drooling jaws.

"I'm sorry." The woman was red with embarrassment. "He's teething. He chews everything. Did he hurt you?"

It was on the tip of Finrod's tongue to say that being bitten by the baby was nowhere near as painful as being eaten by a wolf, but he just smiled and shook his head. "No indeed Madam, it was my fault entirely, I should have known better than to give a child my finger to play with."

"So." She said, settling the baby on her hip. "I guess you'd better sit down if you can find a seat with nothing on it. I didn't realise anyone had called the police."

Jim gave her a baffled look. "I'm sorry, called the police?"

"About this." Lily waved her free hand around the room. "You said you were here about Jeff. Didn't you?" It was her turn to look baffled.

The penny dropped. "Are you telling me that _he_ did all of this?" Jim asked grimly.

Lily nodded. "He turned up early this morning, said he needed money and my car keys. Came out with some rubbish about being attacked by a wild dog and that he needed to get far away in case it came back. He said he'd been in the hospital all Sunday but I thought he was just spinning me a line. I thought he'd got into some bother while he was out clubbing."

"He _was_ in hospital right enough. He was a attacked by person or persons unknown on his way back home from a club" Jim confirmed. "I had to visit him in hospital to take a statement about the attack on him but I need to have another conversation with him, which is why I am looking for him. Can you tell me what happened here? Did he trash the place after you refused to give him money?"

Lily sat down heavily on a sturdy coffee table, it was almost as though her legs would no longer hold her up. The adrenalin rush of rage had dissipated and her fear was now beginning to creep through the barriers. Tears filled her eyes and started to roll down her face. As if in concert with her, the child also began to snuffle. She did not protest when Finrod reached over and took the baby, holding him against his shoulder and gently rocking him. He walked over to the window with the child all the time singing a soft lullaby in Sindarin. The baby was soon quiet and lying sleepily against the Elf Lord's shoulder.

"You'd make a good dad." Lily said approvingly through her own tears. She wiped them away on her sleeve. "Look I'm sorry about shouting at you earlier. I thought Jeff had come back." She turned to Jim. "Yes he trashed the place, but not because I refused him money and the car. He's my brother and I love him. I would do _anything_ to help him. I gave him what I had and the keys..."

She stopped and Jim watched her expression crumple into one of fear.

"Something made him angry?" Jim persisted.

Lily shook her head. "Something made him change. He started going on about how he was feeling weird, like his skin was too small for his body or something. He said his muscles were hurting and growing, and that his head was hurting something awful then all of a sudden he just ripped his shirt off and started slavering at me..." She stopped again and shuddered with horror. "I don't want to think about what happened then...I don't."

"Lily, if Jeff has done harm to you then we need to find him quickly. We have reason to believe that he might be ill from the bite the animal gave him. He could be a danger to other people." Jim leaned forward trying his hardest to impress the seriousness of the situation on her without terrifying her unduly. "Please, tell us...tell me...what happened then?"

Lily's face worked in terror. Finally after a brief battle with her fear she blurted out the rest of the story. "All right, but don't say I didn't warn you! He changed." She wept, tears falling unashamedly down her face. "He changed in front of my very eyes. He looked like one of them bloody werewolves in the movies grey fur, big fangs, yellow eyes and all. _There!_ _Now_ go and tell me that I was seeing things...that I am going loopy."

She glared at the young policeman defensively.

"I'm not going to tell you anything of the sort." Jim reassured her softly. "We _need_ to find him Lily."

"I don't know where he would go. Not in that state anyway." She sniffled miserably.

"But you could give me the details of your car registration right? That would be a start at least. We can try to trace the car."

She nodded, got up and went to the dresser. A moment later she handed him some documentation.

"That's the car details, but I don't know that he could have driven in the state he was in. After the change, I was terrified, he just stood there looking at me and his eyes..." Her voice wobbled and broke. "...his eyes weren't my brother's eyes any more. I thought he was going to tear me apart, but he didn't. He just looked at me and tore out of the flat as if the hounds of hell were after him." She stared numbly around the wreck of her living room. "I don't even know where to _start_ sorting this out. What on earth am I going to do?"

"Do you have any friends who would take you in for a few days?" Jim asked gently. He didn't even _like_ to think of the narrow escape this young woman and her baby had just had."I don't think you should stay here at the moment anyway. Somewhere that he perhaps wouldn't know where to look for you?"

Lily stared at him aghast. "You think we're in danger from him don't you?" She whispered.

"I don't know." Jim replied grimly. "But I don't want to take that chance with you and your baby. Go and get some stuff together and think about where you could perhaps go...just temporarily. We will take you there."

Fifteen minutes later they were all in the car heading for the town of Oxford where one of Lily's old school friends now lived after her divorce from her husband. Lily had spoken to her on the phone and she had immediately offered her assistance. They dropped her there and told her not to let anyone else know where she was, then they headed back to Jim's Police headquarters where he put in a request for an APB on Jeff Harris in his sister's stolen vehicle. The request stated simply that he was wanted for assault and that he was to be approached with extreme caution.

Neither Jim nor Finrod spoke much on the way back to Eonwe's house in Hampshire. Jim hunched grimly over the wheel. If Jeff had been changed in that way, who knew how many more had undergone the same metamorphosis. That meant that the werewolves were trying to increase their numbers.

It all looked incredibly bad.

ooOoo


	11. A Friend in Need

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author Note: **Thanks most sincerely to all for their reviews.

**Crystal: **I am so glad you found the story again and are enjoying it. My apologies for not posting the rest on Henneth Annun. Real life got in the way and I could not find the time. I will hopefully post the rest of the story on there at some stage in the near future. In the meantime, read and enjoy and many, many thanks for the very flattering comments.

**Battling Bard:** Hi again, I was beginning to think you had dropped off the edge of the planet! Nice to hear from you. Insane or a genius? Well, I never professed to be a genius, so I guess insanity is the answer here. It _is _a strange sentence for LOTR fanfiction, but the idea that Thranduil would do everything extremely well in a modern world and would adapt to modern life much better than his Elven contemporaries has always been in my mind. He's a practical Elf who I reckon would not have faded. That to him would be tantamount to being beaten. This is a strong character who kept his realm safe without the help of a Ring of Power. Because of this I feel that in a modern world Elrond and the others would defer to him as far as ability and knowledge is concerned.

**Ellfine/General Chaos:** Both parties are in some kind of peril, be it near at hand or a little further away in time. The part about the photographs just occurred to me as I was penning that bit in the chapter. It suddenly occurred that this was at least one way for the bad guys to find out that the Elves were back without actually physically going to look, and bear in mind that Herumor is very busy trying to sort out his allies from his enemies among those originally sworn to Morgoth. It might not immediately occur to him that there may be other enemies gathering. However you can rest assured that his setup is not bleak, dark and ancient and that he will have a few extremely computer literate people in his organisation!

Rest assured, Kim and Eonwe will not be ignored. I will address their continuing relationship as the story moves on, although it isn't the main focus of the sequel.

"Impulsive? Do you remember my ex-boyfriend, the vampire? I slept with him, he lost his soul, now my boyfriend's gone forever, and the demon that wears his face is killing my friends. The next impulsive decision I make will involve my choice of dentures. "

**-- Buffy (BTVS TV show)**

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 11 – A Friend in Need**

**Somewhere in Italy...**

Maksim sat in the back of the vehicle and tried not to show his disgust at having to travel with those he normally considered to be his sworn enemies. It seemed to please Herumor greatly to throw the vampire in with the werewolves and watch how he coped. It was the latest in a string of tests he had given the vampire since he had reported to the London head office of Angband Enterprises three weeks ago.

Herumor was trying to test his mettle, Maksim fully realised that. He wanted to see how far the vampire could be pushed, so with a view to that, he was now in the middle of Europe on a mission with four werewolves.

Oh they didn't look much like werewolves it had to be said. They actually looked like four ordinary guys, but they were _not _ordinary, far from it. Each of them had mastered their condition to the point where changing into the wolf that was always inside them had become a matter of will and not what phase of the moon they were in.

Maksim on the other hand laboured under a handicap, one of having to wait until nightfall to be able to function correctly. This limited his use to Herumor and it was becoming crystal clear that in the race of who was more useful to this powerful, ancient creature, the vampires were trailing in a sorry second.

Point of fact was Maksim was running out of time, and he knew it. He had given all the intelligence he could to Kiril. He had no idea what the coven leader would do with it, it didn't look good, that fact stood out like a sore thumb. However Maksim himself knew that he was about to outlive his usefulness to Herumor.

He glanced at his companions. They were a grim, ill humoured bunch at best. Not a word of conversation had been spoken since they arrived in Italy. The travelling was done in a special vehicle with glass windows that let in the light, but not the harmful elements that would destroy Maksim were he exposed to them. The leader of the group, who had in his old life been a blue collar worker called Ned Fallon, had sneered at the vampire when giving the briefing for their task, a task that so obviously did not hold a part for him that Maksim _knew _beyond any shadow of a doubt that Fallon had been given orders to get rid of him at the same time as carrying out his task.

They were to waylay some very special travellers and take them prisoner. None of the travellers were to be brought back harmed. Maksim didn't know who they were and at this stage in the game he didn't really care all that much. Fallon and his three henchmen talked among themselves and obviously knew more details, but Maksim had been kept in the dark. He knew, because of that fact, that somewhere among the attack on these travellers he would become collateral damage.

However, in doing that, Herumor had unwittingly made a vital mistake with the vampire. True, he might not be able to function in daylight and this limited his apparent usefulness, but he was as much a warrior, if not more, than _any_ of the werewolves with him.

And unlike the werewolves, who were more like dumb grunts that carried out orders than major tacticians, Maksim was a superb tactician and an an intelligent leader in his own right. He had been that for centuries, whereas Fallon, their leader, was a fairly recent recruit to Lycan ranks only in the last fifty years or so. Maksim had a wealth of experience and years on him.

One thing was for sure, Maksim was not going under without a fight. If it was to be his last fight, then he would make it a good one and he would take some of them down with him.

But the best laid plans of mice and men aft gang 'aglay, in the words of Rabbie Burns.

ooOoo

**The residence of Brigadier and Mrs Matthews, Hampshire, England**

"How's it going?"

Kim nearly jumped out of her skin. "Dear god Jim, don't creep up on a person like that! You almost gave me heart failure. I hate being crept up on, people should say they are there. Or they should shout, sing or yodel or something."

Jim fell about laughing. "Yodel?"

Kim blushed. "I'm afraid I stole that from the Buffy The Vampire Slayer script." She confessed. "There's nothing original about me I'm afraid."

He sat down on one of the breakfast bar stools. "Really? And here was me thinking just _how_ original you actually are. One of a kind even."

She grimaced. "Oh hell yes, one of a kind, that's me. Anyway, how's _what_ going?"

Jim swiveled the salt cellar around and around. "Oh the whole marriage with a Maia thing, you know. Motherhood, etcetera etcetera."

"Marriage with the Maia is absolutely heavenly, as you might think it would be with a sort of angel. Marriage with the Brigadier is quite something else. " Kim arched an eyebrow at him and grinned. "Motherhood...well...she's so amazing isn't she? I sometimes stare at her when she's asleep for ages marveling at the fact that this perfect little girl came out of me. Gary...Eonwe says I'll give her a complex if I keep doing it, but he does it as well. When he thinks I'm not looking of course."

She made a grab for the salt cellar and put it away before he could spin it any more.

Jim grinned unashamed and blushed. "Sorry, a bit of nervous energy. I would have thought being married to army life would have been easy for you; you being a former squaddie."

Kim shoved the dishwasher door shut with a firm click and switched it on. They both stood in silence for a moment listening to the whirl and swish of the water inside before she answered him.

"Seriously? It's really not that easy being an officer's wife and even harder being a senior officer's wife." Kim sat on one of the other stools. "I am not their kind of people, never was and the worst is that every time Eonwe and I have to attend some function of event at the Mess I feel as though they are all waiting for me to screw up."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "You mean like eating with the wrong knife and fork or something?"

"Sort of." Kim wrinkled her nose. "I can't put my finger on it, but it's like the other night, we had to attend a Ladies Dinner at the Mess and this bloody woman nearly trod on me in her efforts to introduce Eonwe to her snooty daughter. She behaved as though I wasn't there and even tried to get him to take this girl out to dinner."

Jim snorted with laughter. "And what, pray, did our grand Herald do?"

Kim sighed and shook her head with exasperation. "He didn't even turn a hair, he turned around and smoothly introduced me as his wife, even though he knows fine well that she knows _who _I am. He complimented her on having such a lovely daughter and pointed her in the direction of one of the young unattached officers. Most of the time though it goes straight over his head."

"Well at least he dealt with it without a fuss Kim. And I shouldn't worry about it. Any idiot can see that he's head over heels in love with his wife. The way he looks at you says it all." Jim reassured her.

Kim waved a hand at him. "Oh I _know_ that, it's not him, it's the fact that they dismiss me to the point where they do stuff like that, as though he should just turn around, divorce me and marry them or their daughter just because I am some insignificant nobody in their eyes. It annoys me that they even _think_ that in the first place."

"Think what?" Eonwe's voice intruded quietly on the conversation. He came over, put his arm around his wife and lifted her face to his.

Kim gazed adoringly up at him and allowed herself to be mollified by a kiss. "Nothing, it's nothing. Jim was just asking me how I manage to put up with being married to you, that's all." She dimpled at him mischievously.

Eonwe swatted her backside gently with his free hand. "Oh really?"

"Yeah really." She slapped him on his arm and this started a rather intimate scuffle which ended up in with them indulging in a rather passionate embrace.

Jim flushed with embarrassment and beat a hasty retreat into the living room where the others were assembled awaiting Eonwe.

ooOoo

**The Council Chambers at Castle Batiz in the Carpathian Mountains**

Kiril, head of the northern coven of vampires turned away from the Council Chambers. Part of him was amazed that he still existed and had not been turned into dust. The other part was in a conundrum, what was he to do now?

He had spoken out long and vociferously against the removal of the Lady's remains being removed elsewhere by these base creatures and taken into Herumor's care, but the words spoken by the fearsome wraith-like Herumor had been smooth and filled with many seductive promises. However, his deep socketed eyes had been filled with a fell light as he gazed upon the only council member who had opposed him and inside Kiril's courage had quailed.

Herumor had stepped into the centre and a wave of something had passed from him to the Council Members. Kiril had watched in horror as those around him fell into thrall, such was the power of this awful creature. Many of them were ancient themselves. They had done unspeakable things in the name of the Lady, but they had yet to equal the horrors that roiled wave upon wave from this Lord of the Dead.

Yet Kiril was not in thrall. He feared greatly to the point of being paralysed with it and he saw his end in those eyes, but for whatever reason, he was _not_ in thrall.

Aragorn son of Arathorn and his contemporaries could have given it a name had they not all passed beyond the bounds of both mortal and immortal memory on what had been Middle-earth. In those times the waves of evil that emanated from Herumor had been given a name... the Black Breath... but that knowledge and the ability to conquer it had long been sundered and forgotten as ages upon ages passed and the old kingdoms and realms had fallen under thick glaciers and risen anew, but without the old knowledge and wisdom.

The black flame flared in Herumor's eyes as he stepped into the middle of the circle around which the Council Members habitually sat while making decisions that affected all of the covens. His tone was smooth and plausible, but his eyes, glittering with malevolence, were fixed upon Kiril as he spoke.

"I do not ask thee to do this on my own behest. I come at the will of another, one long imprisoned who even now seeks entry back into the lands that were his own. I pave the way for him and him alone. He knew your Lady before you were even spawned. She would wish this, she would want what _he _wants, she who served him ages unnumbered past. Great power awaits thee _all _when my Master returns, and return he will. His business here is not finished yet."

Kiril saw the dark light of this creature...this wraith...reflected in the other Council Members' eyes and he knew he was beaten. Herumor would not suffer him to remain alive, not as long as he remained defiant. At the same time he saw clearly now what Maksim had obviously seen, the end of all things as they knew it. What awaited them was not power at the right hand of a powerful dark master, but servitude, never ending.

He quailed inside. What was he to do? Did he continue his defiance and meet his ending with such courage as he could muster or did he kneel at the feet of this powerful emissary of an even more powerful being as the others did? A mortal saying popped unbidden into his mind.

_He who stops and runs away lives to fight another day._

Kiril dropped his gaze and if he had breath would have taken a deep one. He forced himself into an attitude of respectful confirmation. Herumor was not the only one who could be smooth and plausible. Kiril had centuries of such behaviour behind him and he had survived long in the upper echelons of his kind.

"Then who am I to stand in the way of this?" He bowed his head and stared at the floor in an attitude of complete compliance and respect.

There was an echoing silence of relief all around him. Nobody spoke, nobody moved. Finally Herumor broke the silence.

"All is well then. My servants will remove the Lady's remains into my care. Lord Kiril..." His voice was dry and brittle and even a touch amused as though he had never doubted the outcome.

Kiril could feel himself quivering with fear but he forced himself to look up into Herumor's eyes. "Yes my Lord." He whispered through dry lips.

"I would speak to thee of thy servant Maksim." Herumor dismissed the council from their own chambers with a wave of one pale skeletal hand. "The rest of you may depart to await my commands."

Kiril could feel their doom crashing down upon them. Who on this earth was strong enough to go against Herumor and his master _whoever _that was? The might of the mortal armies was great indeed, but mortal man was weak and pleasure loving, they craved wealth and power beyond all things. They put their faith in their technology and weaponry in the belief that the bigger the gun or the bomb, the less likely they were to be challenged.

They had not yet been faced with an enemy like this in all the ages of their existence. _This_ enemy had weapons that far outweighed any technology, he could bend people to his will and power attracts power. He used technology himself and had mastered it.

No...mortal man would not be strong enough. This enemy was far beyond them.

The battle lines were being drawn.

ooOoo

**The residence of Brigadier and Mrs Matthews, Hampshire, England**

Once everyone was settled with cups of tea and coffee, or whatever else they had opted to drink, Eonwe stood in front of the mantelpiece in the middle of his living room. His gaze roamed over them.

For once Erestor had left the kitchen and the office and was also seated on the sofa beside Kim. Maglor and Alun Davies had travelled from the Forest of Dean to be present. Maedhros lounged elegantly against the low window seat and Finrod sat beside him. Jim fidgeted with the books in the long bookshelf.

They all merely waited for Kim who had gone to answer the front door. After a few minutes of silence she came back into the living room followed by Chief Knowles, still in uniform, who greeted everyone with his usual calm cheeriness and hugged both Jim and Eonwe.

"Sorry I'm a bit late. My boss is a bit of a slave-driver." He gave Eonwe a smug smile.

Eonwe grinned at him. "I hope those conference papers are in order Chief."

Chief settled into a deep armchair and accepted a cup of tea from Kim. "Thanks love." He winked at her and then turned to the Herald. "My conference papers collation is _always_ in order I'll have you know, Sir. I'm not the one who got them out of sequence. They're all bound and ready for you on your desk."

Eonwe's rich laughter flowed over them. "Then let us get to the matters in hand. It's a shame that Master Elrond and the others are not here, but events have moved on and it is left to us to decide how we address this developing situation."

"Are they in danger?" Maglor asked quietly.

Eonwe looked grave. "I don't know. At the moment I have no idea how far this has all gone. The rise of the Lycan population and the fact that they have chosen to show themselves so publicly tells me that some power is growing and is behind this. So far we only know of the attack on this young man, Jeff Harris and his subsequent attack on his sister and also the fact that they attacked Lord Finderato and my wife on the road where they could have been seen by other members of the public."

"It _was_ a side road in the country." Kim said softly.

"Still, it was not so remote that other vehicles didn't use it."

Kim nodded. "True. I didn't see any houses around but we were so busy trying to run for our lives and not get eaten there could have been. We may just not have noticed at the time."

"At any rate I have sent a warning to Thranduil and the others." Eonwe said gravely. "I feel that they are in the most danger at this moment in time. Haldir and Elladan are in the middle of a large bustling city, a major centre in the region. I think it unlikely that they will come under attack. Thranduil, Elrond, Glorfindel and Lady Celebrian are travelling through regions which can be remote. If there is danger of attack, that is where it will come." Eonwe paused for a moment and took a sip of his tea. "Thranduil is well armed and they are all able warriors. We can do nothing about them at the moment and must trust in hope that they will reach Carcassone without undue trouble."

"The way I see it, the only way we're going to find out more information is if we find Jeff Harris." Jim said firmly.

Eonwe nodded. "I agree. We need to find this young man quickly. I take it you have had no results from the APB you put out on him?"

Jim shook his head. "Not yet, but we only just put it out a few hours ago, this stuff takes time. We don't know how far he got or even whether he holed up somewhere until the transformation wore off. I mean, does it wear off? Like in the movies?"

"I doubt it." Finrod interposed. "I think it is more a case of how long it will take him to _control_ the transformation. The business of the full moon affecting them is based more or myth than fact. It sounded to me as though he is an unwilling subject for conversion. According to his sister he seemed more horrified by his situation than relishing it. He left her and her child alive. That speaks to me of some inner strength in him. He will, as Jim says, have gone to ground somewhere and we must find him. Before they do."

"I agree." Eonwe said softly. "But where would he go?"There must be somewhere, somewhere he feels safe. Perhaps Jim and Finderato could go back and question his sister further. Now she has calmed down a little and feels more safe, maybe she will remember more or places she knows he feels secure in."

"We can go over there tomorrow and ask her a few more questions." Jim assented. "In the meanwhile, I did get the SOCO people to go in and do some forensics on Lily's flat. Hopefully I will get the result of whatever they find in the next couple of days. There was definitely blood, his blood. Perhaps testing will show something up."

Alun Davies spoke for the first time since his arrival that evening. "I would like to help out there." He said firmly. "I may be part of the sick, lame and lazy brigade at the moment, but I am _still_ a senior police officer. I might have access to areas and information Jim doesn't. I have contacts I can use. Anyway I am sick of kicking my heels at home. I need to get involved in something and Maglor will be here to keep an eye on me if I start to fall apart. It'll get me out from underneath the wife's feet as well."

They all laughed at that. Maglor smiled at him and gently pressed his shoulder in support. "I too would wish to be involved."

Eonwe smiled at him. "I agree Alun. You and Maglor may be of great assistance here. Perhaps you should accompany Finrod and Jim when they go to see Lily Harris. In the meantime I would like Maedhros and Erestor to remain here to ensure Kim and Allie's continuing protection."

Both elves bowed in acceptance of their roles.

"What about this Angband Enterprises gig you went to other night?" Chief had been quiet up to now. He had showed no sign of disbelief in the extraordinary notion that werewolves might be on the loose.

Eonwe sighed and sat down. "I am _truly_ not sure whether this was just a coincidence or not. The CEO of Angband Enterprises seems to be an innocuous little man. Just your average businessman really, which of course is what makes me a little suspicious. There was nothing at _all_ remarkable about him. No semblance of power, no matter how vague. At least not what you would expect from a Chief Executive Officer of a fairly prestigious company. At first I dismissed him and my fears, but Kim has since suggested to me that perhaps he was a figurehead and I think that she may be right."

"The public face of something more horrific perhaps." Mused the Chief.

Eonwe nodded. "I sensed _something _about him but nothing was clear. His responses seemed programmed somehow, but there was no evidence of evil about him. He seemed a little nervous when I inquired about his business ventures, but overcame it fairly quickly. He was at least knowledgeable enough about arms and armaments which is the primary business of Angband Enterprises."

Maedhros stood up. "Let us stop beating about the bush here." He paced restlessly around the room. "We are not saying what is in everyone's minds here. _ Something _or someone is behind all this. We all know that a dark power is growing in strength, yet the two words that are on all of our lips are the very two words we seem unable to say. Could it be that the Dagor Dagorath is approaching? Is it possible that Morgoth's prison is weakening and that he has sent emissaries to gather up what power he can? We spoke of a final battle in the way of our kind long ago, but Middle-earth has moved on, battles are no longer the way they were, mortal technology has ensured that, as has mortal government and their way of doing things. How powerful is this Angband Enterprises in reality and who is behind it? Are we anticipating the same kind of battle that is laid down in the lore of the Eldar and Ainur and which we waged in times past or will this battle be waged on a _different_ kind of battlefield." His voice faltered and he sat down with a thump as though all the passion had been leeched from him. "I make no apology for my comments."

Eonwe stared at him with a steady gaze. "And I ask for none." He said gently. "I think you _may_ have the right of it and with that in mind I have asked Kim and Chief if they will start doing some searches on the company. For them to have received an invitation to an event that was attended by so many powerful people, dignitaries and royalty means that their influence is fairly long reaching. They are seeking power in the highest echelons of this country and once there, would have great influence in the upper levels of the other world powers. We need more information about them. In the meantime we must do what we can to protect ourselves."

"And Elrond and the others must return sooner rather than later." Erestor firmly interposed.

Eonwe nodded. "I agree and have sent a message to Thranduil to that end, however do not underestimate the importance of their search for descendants. I have a feeling we will have need of such people before the end."

ooOoo


	12. Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **For anyone who reads this and is from the UK or familiar with Devon and Fremington Camp, as far as I know this camp still actually operates as a Summer Camp for Army Cadets, the Territorial Army and some Regular Units. It's used for Adventure Training and also for yearly training for Territorial, Cadet and Regular Army. I, however, have decided that for the purposes of my story Fremington Camp is now disused. So apologies to Fremington and anyone associated with it for that! Fremington Camp is set in a most beautiful area and not not a hideous place at all. I actually attended a camp there during my army career myself. However it _is_ isolated enough for the purposes of Jeff Harris!

This chapter is in the nature of an interlude. We are doing a recap of other original characters introduced earlier obviously for the purposes of bringing the loose ends together.

"We will not walk in fear, one of another. We are not descended from fearful men, not from men who feared to write, to speak, to associate and to defend causes which were for the moment unpopular. This is no time... to keep silent. "

**-- **_- __**Edward R. Murrow.**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 12 - ****Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat **

**Head Office of Angband Enterprises, London.**

Somewhere, deep inside of himself, Leland Sawyer was a _very _frightened man.

In fact frightened would have probably been putting it mildly. He was actually a _terrified _man to the point that he felt trapped inside his own body. Outwardly he just looked like the same old Leland Sawyer, the man who had, up until only a few weeks ago, been a senior partner in a company that dealt in arms.

That was then.... _this _was now.

Now his body was something that carried out tasks and made decisions, but it was not of his own volition.

Leland would have been hard put to set it all out logically to a sympathetic listener. He certainly remembered going into the plate glass and steel modern offices of Angband Enterprises on a business visit, but he remembered it as someone on the outside looking in rather than from the standpoint of someone in control of himself.

What had happened in the penthouse suite of the Chief Executive Officer was now shrouded in denial inside him, where the real Leland Sawyer remained in trembling terror. Outside he was now the public face of a Fortune 500 prestigious company. His mind and body did what they were told by this obscene wraith-like creature who was more dead than alive, while deep inside the real man was curled up in a foetal position and trying not to see or feel the things he was being forced to do and say.

His wife didn't recognise him any more; neither did he recognise himself for that matter. However she had taken one look at the new and improved version of her husband, packed her bags and taken the kids and the family dog to her sister's house in Arizona. He was glad for it. He didn't want her to be here. He didn't want to see this horrid thing interacting as though it was really him with the family he loved beyond anything. That would have been more than he could bear.

However Leland _could _sense things through the outward demeanor of his new persona. That British Army Brigadier, the one whose gaze had been so piercing and thoughtful, _he _had sensed something amiss, but the outward Leland Sawyer aka Herumor had calmly dealt with the situation with seemingly positive results. At any rate he had been satisfied that he had averted unnecessary questions.

If only the British Brigadier had looked closer into his eyes, he might have seen the _real_ Leland inside them screaming for help.

Still, he knew from some deep and profound knowledge that the creature controlling him had made a huge mistake in not recognising the Brigadier's potential for being a worthy adversary. It was becoming clear to Leland, now an impartial observer of events happening around him, that Herumor was arrogant. He assumed that _all _mortals were stupid and dumbed down. He didn't appear to have seen the extra light in the Brigadier's eyes at all.

For the first time in as many weeks, Leland allowed a tiny hope flare into being.

ooOoo

**Vancouver International Airport, British Columbia**

"You _sure _you're gonna be okay?"

Hal Kenwood dragged his duffel bag out of the back of Dr Xavier du Pree's battered old Volvo estate and looked over at his white haired, elderly friend.

"I'll be fine." He tried what he hoped was a confident grin on his face for size, but he could see Xavier's doubt written all over his face. "Just make sure that Rasputin and Bob are okay will you?"

Xavier wasn't fooled for a minute but he said nothing of his real feelings. "They'll be fine with me, they already know that I'll spoil them rotten. Do you want me to come into the terminal with you or should I just head home?"

Tears suddenly filmed over Hal's eyes and he blinked furiously to get rid of them. He was filled with a sudden desire to just turn around and go back to the serenity of his old friend's beautiful home. He missed Bob and Rasputin horribly already and he had no idea if he would ever see any of them again.

"It's okay old man, I reckon I can manage to catch a flight to London without holding onto your hand. The Vancouver rush hour traffic jam will be starting in half an hour anyway, I will feel better if you're not in it. I know how you get with your road rage."

Xavier snorted with laughter. "I don't _have _road rage." He said slyly. "I have this white hair and when I perch my glasses on the end of my nose everyone just excuses me because I'm a harmless little old man."

"Yeah, yeah, you just keep telling yourself that." Hal dropped the bag and swept the old man into a fierce embrace. His voice was husky. "Just keep yourself safe please. Don't go out by yourself at night and keep the doors locked, just in case."

Xavier looked at him over the top of his half glasses. "Keeping the doors locked didn't do you much good did it? In any case I think we would have known by now if you had been followed, it's been over a week, nearly ten days since you left Smithers."

"I hope so, but if there's any doubt, pack yourself and the animals up and get out of Dodge."

Xavier walked with him as far as the second crossing from where they had parked the car. The facade of the terminal building loomed up in front of them. "You seriously think that finding this friend of yours will help? You haven't seen him in years, you don't even know where he lives. Or even whether he'll think you're a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic."

Hal smiled grimly. "No, but I know for a fact that if I talk to him he will give me a fair hearing and I know that he is still a serving soldier. There must be a way to trace him. If he tells me I'm crazy then I'll check myself into the nearest loony bin."

Xavier patted his arm. "Well you'd better get away I suppose, otherwise you'll miss your flight. Let me know when you get to London."

"Will do, and I'll let you know how best to contact me." Hal slung his bag over his shoulder and winked at his friend.

Xavier stood and watched Hal's tall, lean form disappear into the crowds of people entering and leaving the airport terminal. Then he turned and headed back to his car.

He hoped that Hal was wrong or mistaken and that the extraordinary story he had recounted on his arrival in Kitsilano was at the very most a hideous dream borne from one too many beers and bourbon chasers. Unfortunately, some primal instinct told him that it wasn't. Hal Kenwood was one of the most grounded, capable people he knew. He wasn't given to urban myth telling or horror stories and the long deep claw marks on side of his pickup truck along with the fact that the spare on the back had been ripped to shreds had told their own story.

Xavier du Pree decided in that moment, on the road back to Kitsilano, that he would start doing his own research into the issue of werewolves and associated myths. If something was going to go down then he wanted to be forewarned.

OoOoo

**A disused army camp at Fremington, Devon, South West England**

The waiting and the anticipation was the worst and then the hunger and the pain. Jeff Harris curled up on a stack of mattresses in a freezing cold building with a fluffy tartan travelling blanket pulled up over his shivering body. All round him was the ripped and torn detritus of varying brands of snack food, mostly taken from vending machines since he couldn't trust going into a shop in case his body changed into a grey matted furry mass of snarls and sharp teeth.

It tended to change randomly at first, something way out of his control, but two days on and he could now anticipate the first symptoms of the change and at least manage to take himself away from other people. Being with people was no good, even when the changes weren't happening he found he could now smell them in a way he had never been able to before. He could smell their blood and always in the background he could feel the intense desire to rip and tear to get at the sweet blood and meat. During those times when the wolf was not in control, he found that he needed a lot of food to feed the dreadful hunger.

_That_ was all bad enough, but one of the things that bothered him the most were the absences of the memory of things he did when under transformation. He was riddled with torment over whether or not he had harmed Lily and the bairn, but was too terrified to go back and see what damage he had done.

In any case that avenue was closed to him now. He knew the police were looking for him because he had heard it on the car radio on his frantic flight away from London. Assault, that's what they said. He had choked back the sobs when he heard that, if it was assault then he had hurt somebody. He just prayed with all of his might that it wasn't his sister and his nephew.

Some base primal sense had told him to get off the major road system and into somewhere quiet and remote where he could think what his next actions would be, while he _could _still think logically.

He headed to the only place he knew that qualified. A few years back he had gone with the Army Cadets to Fremington Camp near Barnstaple in Devon. They had stayed for two weeks in what was at the time an old barracks which now played host to various Cadet forces and some Army units as a summer camp.

The camp had long fallen into disuse, and the Ministry of Defence had actually all but forgotten it was there. The Army still used the ranges nearby, but the old buildings made from corrugated iron and which were called 'spiders' had been long locked up. The camp was surrounded now by a six foot high metal fence with razor wire on the top to deter people from squatting, but there was no guard.

Not that any of that was _any_ problem for a seven foot tall werewolf with long, lethal curved claws.

So there he was, curled up on the stack of damp mattresses, alternately sweating and then shivering as his body went through the stages of alteration and metamorphosis. His mind drifted from conscious memory to primal hunger and hideous urges, but somewhere inside the mess that was Jeff Harris, something still shone true and it was that something that would eventually learn to control the beast inside him to the point where he could function properly.

He needed time and space, but was aware that even as the police searched for him, so others were _also _searching. He could feel _their _siren call in the back of his mind as well.

Jeff found himself sinking in the mire of blood thirst and blood lust again and the last civilized vestiges of his mind fled before the hideous changes.

A rat ventured from its nest and scampered across the dry, dust strewn floor. Time to go in search of some food. Halfway across the vast empty space of a barrack room floor, just beside the old fashioned black metal, coal fired stove in the middle of the room, the rat stopped dead and rose on its hind legs, whiskers quivering. A low mournful howl suddenly filled the room and the rat froze still, rigid with fear, as it acknowledged a predator far more powerful than itself, or anything else it had known.

As the howl died down, reverberating and echoing in the empty rooms as it did so, the rat finally broke from its paralysed fear. It scampered swiftly back into the hole in the wall that led deep down to its nest where it stayed trembling. There would be no food tonight and the rat had no intention of becoming anything else's nightly snack either.

ooOoo

**Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat **_(Latin) _Meaning 'Fortune Favours the Brave'


	13. Stuck in the middle

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Thanks again for the review Ellfine, I must say that I have been reading your stories and enjoying them immensely. Yes Kim knew what would happen because in the British Army there is still a very strict hierarchy and a gap between other ranks and officers. Never the twain shall meet. That hierarchy actually continues on in amongst the wives and families and is actually perpetuated by them all. It's something that will never change I'm afraid. Kim as a former senior non commissioned officer knew that her marriage to an officer would be frowned on and that she would be expected to give up her military career if she married him. It's not specifically the rule these days, but it _is_ a social unwritten rule. As a sergeant married to a senior officer she could not have gone into the Officer's Mess. She would have been 'encouraged' to resign from the military.

Hal Kenwood is former military and he has contacts with other military people. I am sure your guess about who he is trying to contact are correct! He has a place in all this although _he's _still trying to figure out what that place is.

Jeff Harris and Leland Sawyer are _both_ victims of a very unpleasant circumstance. Both were in the wrong place at the wrong time. There but for the grace of god go _any_ of us. And who knows what will be the outcome for them? The jury is still out. All I will say is that Herumor and his master are judging modern man by ancient man and in doing so are bound to make errors in judgment. Human beings have a wonderful capacity for digging their heels in when faced with adversity and making a stand even when the odds are against them. In that we don't differ _too_ much from the men and Elves of Aragorn's time. Human beings are often slow to rile, but once they are, they can be deadly foes.

"Well I don't know why I came here tonight,  
I got the feeling that something ain't right,  
I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair,  
And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs,  
Clowns to the left of me,  
Jokers to the right, here I am,  
Stuck in the middle with you. "

_- __**Stealers Wheel (First and last verse lyrics)**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 13 – Stuck in the middle**

**The city of Turin, Piedmont, Italy**

Maksim answered the insistent ring of his mobile and turned away from the four werewolves sitting at the table. "Sorry, I need to take this."

He had no idea why he was actually apologising to four dumb Lycan grunts, but it seemed like the polite thing to do at the time.

Once outside of the small Cafe near the Palazzo Carignano where they had stopped to have drinks before carrying on to their assignment he turned his collar up against the damp northern Italian evening. "Kiril?"

"I cannot stay on the phone long." Kiril's voice sounded agitated. "I should not be speaking to you at all. This Herumor seems to know everything we do."

"Is there trouble?"

There was a moment's silence. "Yes, but not necessarily for us here. Herumor knows you have been passing intelligence to me. I have averted my own demise by the skin of my teeth, but you... _you_ he views as a danger to him. I am not sure why. He seemed unconcerned by the fact that you kept me informed, so that is not the reason for his concern over you."

"I care little for what he thinks." Maksim said stiffly. He knew what was coming and in a way appreciated that Kiril was risking his own neck to speak to him and warn him.

"And therein lies the problem I think. This mission you are on." Kiril interrupted him abruptly. "He has not told me the details, but his intention where you are concerned was clear. Watch your back Maksim, that's all I will say. However, _if_ you come out of this in one piece, then do not try to make contact with either me or the coven. The Council have thrown their lot in with Herumor completely. The Lady's remains are now in his keeping...."

"What?" Maksim exclaimed. He could not keep the alarm or disgust out of his voice.

"I argued against it but I was alone. I saw my doom in Herumor's eyes. I could have made a stand, but I felt I would be of more use if I were to remain alive, so to speak." Maksim could clearly hear that the normally cool and composed Kiril was unravelling. "I say again, do _not_ contact either myself or any other coven members. He will find out and he will hunt us _all_ down. My suggestion is to disappear, go to ground. This is not such a hard thing for us, we have been making ourselves invisible to humans for centuries."

"Don't worry about me, I can look after myself." Maksim's voice was stiff with anger. "I had already come to the conclusion that my inclusion in this assignment was for the purposes of getting rid of me."

"Then I cannot help you further, except..." There was hesitation in Kiril's voice.

"Except?"

"I am not sure it's anything relevant, but according to information our own people have been gathering there is apparently a current British police investigation into an attack on a young man in London a few days ago. The official police line is that it's an assault, but all the evidence points to a Lycan. I know that the Police are humans, but you might find allies among them or even through them. More than that I cannot say." He broke off and Maksim could hear someone speaking in the background. "I _must _go. You only ever served me loyally. I will not forgeet it and I _greatly_ regret putting you in this situation. I wish you luck Maksim."

The phone went dead before Maksim could say anything more.

He was now truly alone.

ooOoo

"We can stop for dinner here in Turin but I would like to press on rather than stay the night." Thranduil turned the Range Rover in towards the city centre. "There's a nice little restaurant near the Palazzo Carignano we could go to. I want to pick up the toll road between here and the coast if I can. It's a busy motorway and we're less likely to run into trouble there but we have a few lesser roads to travel before we actually hit the toll road."

"You know this place better than we do my friend." Elrond said gently. "We are in your hands entirely. I know that I would like to get firm ground under my feet and a hot meal inside me for a couple of hours at least."

Glorfindel and Celebrian nodded their enthusiastic agreement to this.

"Good." Thranduil drove down a wide street and then swung the vehicle into a free parking place. "I have some things for you that I was rather hoping we wouldn't need, but my spider sense is telling me that danger is hovering not too far away."

"Spider sense?" Elrond arched his eyebrows in amusement.

"The character in those moving pictures is called Spiderman. I saw it on the television before we left" Glorfindel said cheerfully. "He has an extra sense for danger that he calls his spider sense."

Celebrian and Thranduil both laughed while Elrond's eyebrows climbed higher. "I am not completely sure that you are not watching this modern television entertainment far too much Glorfindel." He said trying to keep the mild disapproval of such modern things out of his voice.

The Lord of the House of the Golden Flower shrugged elegant shoulders. "Just immersing myself in the culture Elrond." He chuckled. "I have found the television a worthy source of understanding current Secondborn culture and I don't just watch movies, I also watch Discovery and National Geographic. According to many mortal scientists the world is either going to blow up, be entirely covered in water because of something called global warming, be hit by one of Elebereth's heavenly bodies in the form of a comet or there will be a huge wave that will destroy a major part of human civilisation. It seems nothing much changes really."

This made them laugh even more. "And which fate is currently in the lead?" Elrond grinned at his friend.

Glorfindel shrugged again. "It appears that none of them can make up their mind. Perhaps _all _of them will happen or perhaps none at all. After all the major powers of a few decades ago nearly blew everyone to kingdom come with their nuclear weaponry. As far as I can tell the modern Secondborn have a death wish that is entirely at odds with the Numenorean Kings' fears about dying. Oh...and I left out the one about the Secondborn all being turned into Zombies."

More rich golden and light silver laughed floated across the damp, lamp lit avenue. The four elves wandered across the road and into the brightly lit, yet cozy looking restaurant and any passerby could have been excused had they felt that the lamps were a little brighter in the Palazzo Carignano that evening.

They weren't the only ones who noticed the momentary brightness.

ooOoo

Maksim had shut his mobile phone off and turned back to the Cafe when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. At first he thought that his four companions had decided to do the dastardly deed and get it over with _before_ they found their prey, but when Maksim turned in a defensive posture with his gun half drawn there was nobody beside him. Through the Cafe windows he could see that they were all still sitting where he had left them.

He slid the gun back into its holster feeling rather silly. Hopefully nobody had noticed his actions.

However in turning he caught sight of four tall people, three men and a woman, crossing the road, laughing merrily as they walked. That in itself was not a particularly unusual sight in any city. What _was_ unusual was the unearthly glow that emanated from them all. They had an ethereal beauty that spoke of beings who were not of mortal kind, yet there was steel beneath that beauty, especially in the two golden-haired men. The dark haired man was harder to read, but Maksim got the impression that he could probably handle himself in a pinch despite his slim form. There was a litheness there that spoke of power and speed.

But the woman....ah...now... _there _was a woman to make the heart beat faster, if one only had a heart of course. Maksim had not bothered with women for many decades now, but he could appreciate beauty when he saw it. She was slender and lovely beyond belief with long silver hair flowing down the back of her thick parka. Her arm was linked affectionately with that of the dark haired man and Maksim could tell without a doubt that they were man and wife.

As they passed him he was enveloped in a wave of sudden longing for a life long since left behind and some innate sense suddenly told him that these creatures did not belong here. They were suffused with light and life, a direct contrast to his lack of life and as such they stood out like beacons to him, far more so than they would stand out to a normal mortal.

Maksim was not stupid, these ceatures were lately come here. If they had always been here he and others would have known it. Where could they have come _from_? They were obviously travelling across Europe if the mud spattered state of the vehicle was anything to go by.

These were the prey. He knew it to be so even as they and the soft glow that suffused their forms disappeared into a small Italian Bistro a few doors down from the Cafe where the Lycans were sitting even now, getting fueled up for battle.

So what should he do?

Should he go in and inform the Lycans that their prey were busy eating a nice lasagna and enjoying a bottle of Chianti in a restaurant only a few yards away? Could it actually be that these stupid werewolves could not _sense _these unearthly beings from some part of heaven that they themselves, and he, were long since locked out of?

The Maksim prior to Angband Enterprises would have done just that and would have relished the sweetness of their blood.

But the Maksim he was now weighed up the consequences of taking such an action. Instead of the blood lust for the purity of these creatures bringing on a lust and desire, all Maksim felt when he searched inside himself was disgust that he might have willingly and eagerly done _anything_ like that to such beautiful creatures only a few weeks ago.

And sorrow... he felt sorrow. _That _emotion took him aback and was his ultimate undoing.

He stared disconsolately at the facade of the bistro. Part of him wanted to go in and just sit near them. He felt like a moth drawn to a flame. He didn't want to go back into that garish bright Cafe with its modern vinyl and bright lighting and sit with four foul creatures who disgusted him and who wanted to kill him. He knew that if he allowed it, his end at their hands would not be painless or pretty.

Maksim hung his head. A wave of unaccustomed misery swept over him. Suddenly he didn't want to be one of the bad guys any more. Not if it meant a bloody and painful ending for that bright beauty at the hands of that creature Herumor. There was no way that he could believe that a terrible fate did not await them in the dark recesses of Angband Enterprises.

One of the bistro waiters came out, obviously on a smoke break. He sat in one of the unoccupied outside chairs and took out a carton of cigarettes. Maksim glanced back through the window at his companions. He could see that they were preparing to leave. There wasn't much time. He would take his chances and look for an opportunity during the battle, that was always supposing they didn't kill him first.

Moments later he was striding back into the Cafe to join the others while a bewildered waiter stood at the bistro door with a folded piece of paper in his hands. He stared over as Maksim and his companions left the Cafe. Maksim did not look back at him, so he shrugged and went in to deliver the message he had been entrusted with.

ooOoo

Thranduil accepted the piece of paper with a smile of thanks to the waiter. He unfolded it and read slowly. A perplexed frown knitted his golden brows together and his previously cheerful expression grew grave.

"What is it Thranduil?" Elrond asked quietly.

Thranduil handed him the note without a word. It had two sentences written on it.

_You are being hunted. Be on your guard_

"Who would know we were here at this moment?" Elrond whispered. He handed the note to Glorfindel and Celebrian leaned over to read it as well.

"Well _somebody_ does." Thranduil said grimly. He got up from his chair and approached the waiter over. The others watched with trepidation as he quietly questioned the young man in fluent Italian. Moments later he sat back down at the table. Elrond and the others waited expectantly.

Thranduil grimaced. "Apparently he was approached by a tall dark man while he was outside taking a break. I didn't recognise his description of the man as being anyone I was acquainted with."

"Perhaps he is a messenger from the Herald?" Elrond suggested.

Thranduil shook his head. "I don't think so, I think Eonwe would have told me over the phone that he was sending someone. The young man did say that there was something odd about him though, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was."

"Could he have been one of these werewolves?" Glorfindel interposed.

Again Thranduil shook his head. "Why? Why would one of the creatures supposedly building up their forces as part of a growing malignant force send us a warning? Surely if they _know_ we are here...and they certainly _seemed _to know Finrod Felagund was here...they would be trying to capture or kill us, not warning us that they knew we were here. It simply doesn't make any sense."

"What should we do then?" Celebrian couldn't keep the worry and fear out of her voice and Elrond gently took her hand and squeezed it.

"I think we should have our dinner to be honest. There is nothing to be gained by running to the car now and driving long miles hungry and tired. We need to rest and recharge our energies, I have a feeling we may need them. I have some weapons for you all. I was hoping there would be time for some instruction and practice but I'm afraid we'll have to make do with verbal tuition as we drive. I do also have some other items that you all will no doubt be pleased to see." Thranduil gestured the waiter over. "Have we all decided what we want?"

They gave their order to the waiter and settled down to drink the red wine Thranduil had suggested as an accompaniment to the meal however the cozy peaceful feeling that had surrounded them was now gone and had been replaced with a very familiar sensation for all of them. Albeit one they had not had for many millennia.

That of impending danger.

ooOoo


	14. Dances with Wolves

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Thanks to Ellfine, Amebane and chisscientist for their reviews. I have answered the two latter independently of this note. However chissscientist did make a very valid comment about Chapter 12 being a little fractured. These mini profiles of three of the characters were originally meant to be part of a bigger chapter, but when I came to it, my brain wouldn't co-operate and I couldn't see quite how to insert it into a chapter which would have comprised of those and Maksim's first 'meeting' with the Elves. I needed to get the profiles down before I forgot what I wanted to say, so it ended up being the Chapter 12 we have now. However, the comment was extremely constructive for me as a writer to see things through another writer's eyes and therefore is invaluable. So thanks to chisscientist for her insight.

Maksim is actually self-interested really, even before the werewolf thing went down he was already distancing himself from his own kind, primarily because he felt that they were too weak and dissolute. That is what separates him from the others. He is still focused on being the best at what he does. This is what Kiril picked up on and is the _last _thing Herumor wants from his people. Maksim is also very intelligent, but as Ellfine says, his antipathy towards the werewolves is actually working in the Elves' favour and not against them.

"And we are here as on a darkling plain Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, Where ignorant armies clash by night."

_- __**Matthew Arnold**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 14 – Dances with Wolves**

**The bridge over the crossing of the Mirabeau water gap of the Durance River, Haut-de-Provence, France**

The bridge known as the Mirabeau Bridge lifts the road from Turin to Marseilles up above the Durance River as it wends it way to its ultimate meeting with that larger, more well known and travelled river, the Rhone.

Both the bridge's beginning and its ending once across the river rises up from a plain and swoops down to the alluvial plain on the other side. The terrain is not a quiet rolling landscape of fields, but rather a wide expanse of heavy bushes and occasional trees. Although it was a very well travelled road, it wasn't prone to traffic jams, it had more of the long distance traveller as its population. So although seeing other vehicles, large and small, was not unusual, it still could be an hour before one traveller could meet another coming in the other direction. However, the cities and towns of this part of the region were not that close together and the distances between those cities and towns meant that they were busiest at the junctions leading to them than they were in between them.

The near isolation of the place, plus the absence of urban built up areas and the terrain lent itself to something like an ambush. Not that ambushes were commonplace in Haut-de-Provence in the twenty-first century; centuries had passed since the time of robber bands roaming the area or highwaymen stopping travellers for their goods and money. However it was this isolation that made it the final choice for Ned Fallon and his companions.

He had ruled any notion of an ambush out earlier on the journey from Turin because the towns and cities along the way were closer to each other and there was some urban sprawl. Once they had got Gap and Laragne-Monteglin behind them, the distances between signs of habitation grew even less, so it was decided that they would waylay their prey after the city of Sisteron which lies on the banks of the that city, the road became less populated and that suited Ned just fine for his purpose. If necessary the prey could be dragged off road and their vehicle hidden in the bushes.

"How do we know they'll take this route?" Asked a red haired young man, who looked to Maksim more like a computer geek than a kidnapper or assassin.

"Don't be fucking stupid. Didn't you listen when we were going through the route? The N94 to Gap and the N75 between Sisteron and Marseilles _is_ the main road. This guy driving them isn't a dummy, he's not going to risk going off on a side road no matter how much more convenient it would be for us. He'll stay on the main drag and hope for other cars. When he gets over the Mirabeau it'll be dusk and half an hour later it'll be dark, or at least dark enough for us _all _to function." Fallon cast a sneering glance over at Maksim sitting quietly in the back seat. "In any case, I _know _that they are taking this road. Lord Herumor has his sources. They're a little later than anticipated of course, but being here before them to set the ambush up is much better than us coming at them from behind."

The red-haired man subsided, muttering under his breath. Maksim glanced over at him. Out of all of the Lycans he seemed the most ill at ease, almost as if he had something else on his mind other than the mission at hand. At a stop a couple of hours earlier to stretch their legs Ned Fallon had taken the young red-haired man aside. Maksim had not given away that he was watching them and even his sharp hearing couldn't pick up exactly what was said, but the nod that Fallon gave in Maksim's direction told him that Red was his appointed assassin.

He almost laughed out loud at the thought of this geeky, nervous young man being tasked to take him out. It was really quite insulting. They obviously thought he was as degenerate and weak as the rest of vampire-kind.

Maksim set his mouth in a thin line. They were about to find out their mistake.

ooOoo

The Lycan driver drove the four by four down a barely visible rutted track. It bumped and heaved along the track until it was brought to a halt only a few hundred yards from the road, close enough for them to clearly see any vehicle travelling along it and far enough away for the ground to give natural cover. Apart from that, the werewolves needed little camouflage and their speed meant that the ground could be covered and Maksim also had the ability of far sight. Perhaps not quite as far sighted as the Eldar, but far sighted enough to make out their prey against any other traffic on the road.

This of course was all well and good, but how did they intend to stop a heavy powerful vehicle like a Range Rover when the driver realised he was being pursued and would put his foot down? Maksim realised that there was much about this attack that he didn't know, including what little boxes of tricks Herumor's technical people had given Fallon to carry out his mission. He watched from a distance as three of the men including Fallon stripped quickly. No shirt ripping for them as their bodies metamorphosed into the wolf. They stripped quite cheerfully placing their clothing in a pile, but he noticed that Red hung back a little and it hit him that this kid was really new to the Lycan game, possibly only turned in the past couple of monthsand_ this _was why they had given him the job of killing the vampire.

Now Maksim really _did_ feel insulted. This newbie was considered to be enough to kill a centuries old vampire whose job was protection and security? It spoke volumes of Herumor's dismissal of the vampire race and it confirmed Maksim's fears that Herumor's ultimate goal was to wipe them from the face of earth after he had enslaved the human race.

The man who hadn't stripped ran swiftly through the thick bushes further up the road in the direction that Thranduil and the others' car would eventually appear. As far as Maksim could make out he didn't have anything with him, but it was plain that whatever was going to go down to halt the vehicle, it would happen between where he stationed himself and where Maksim and the others were. Maksim loosened his holster strap in preparation. The Lycans had no real need of weaponry even though they carried guns, they carried their most effective and fearsome weapons inside them as did he with his fangs, only he had to be at relatively close quarters with a victim to use them properly. He surreptitiously took his long sharp knife from his boot where it had lain against his leg through the journey and transferred it to the scabbard that hung from his belt underneath his long coat.

Unlike the wolves he needed no intense bodily changes or surging of boiling blood through the veins to build up his fighting ability. He had no need of a circulatory system in the first place and his heart no longer pumped blood around his body. This, he felt, gave him an edge as a fighter. Vampires were not overtaken by blood lust unless they were very hungry, newly brought over or very close to their victim. It meant that every action they took was swift, calculated and cold. The fact that the Lycans had found it necessary to fuel themselves with liquor said much to him. They had drunk much at the Cafe in Turin and they had bought booze and apart from the driver, had kept drinking all along the road constantly boosting their alcohol levels. As far as he could see, they seemed to _need_ the build up of energy and raw emotion and the alcohol fueled that very effectively.

His heightened vampire senses prickled as he became aware of being watched and he slowly turned around to see that Red had taken up a position not far from him and slightly behind him. He had not yet metamorphosed, but Maksim could plainly see the throbbing of the blood through the young man's veins as he struggled to control the changes that were imminent.

_Good. _Thought Maksim viciously. _Stay behind me you dumb fuck, so I know exactly where the attack will come from._

There was a low muted howl which heralded the beginnings of the proper change from man to wolf. Maksim had never seen it at close range up until now; the stretching of muscles, the lengthening of limbs and the strengthening and expanding of the backbone as the wiry grey hair sprang out from the skin. He watched fascinated as their ears flattened and grew long while jaws became muzzles and lips stretched thinly and barely met over sharp yellow fangs.

He glanced back at Red whose face clearly showed his struggle to remain in control. Obviously Fallon had told him to hang back until the last minute. Once the attack was full on, Red would allow himself to change and then lunge for his prey. The kid remained hunched down in his clump of bushes an glowered around him.

Maksim had deliberately positioned himself not far from the four by four and he was close enough to see that in the excitement and lust for violence the driver had jumped out and left the keys swinging in the ignition. Now the vampire had a choice to make. If he left the keys in and one of the Lycans realised they were there he would take them and shut the car door effectively shutting away a possible means of escape, but if he took them out of the ignition and left the car door open and they noticed then they would assume that the driver had the keys with his clothes. Either way it was doubtful that in the heat of the current events they would even consider that Maksim had taken them.

Maksim had no idea whether he would have the time to kill Red and go back for the car, but if he timed it right and did the deed while the others were otherwise occupied, it would be a means of escape for him. It would also mean that if Fallon and company _did_ manage to capture their prey they would be without a means to take them back to Herumor except for the other vehicle that the prey were using which could receive considerable damage in their efforts to bring it to a halt. They simply weren't clever or subtle enough to not damage it. He chuckled softly to himself. That was hardly his problem. His survival was his main aim. So the decision made, he moved to the car as swiftly and silently as only a vampire could, reached in and snagged the keys which he quickly put in his deep outer coat pocket.

A soft growl from up the road, clearly heard by them, but unlikely to be picked up by any mortal ears alerted him and the others that their prey was, at long last, in sight.

Maksim's eyes narrowed as he searched the road up ahead in the gathering gloom. Finally the light from a pair of headlights lanced through the darkness, still quite far away and not yet at the place where the other Lycan had moved to earlier.

Behind him he heard a noise like the panting of a dog, a groan of pain and an almost audible crack as Red began to change.

Showtime!

ooOoo

Thranduil and the others had left Turin very late in the evening. The intention was to pick up N75 from Gap. It was also his intention to pick up the A7 Toll Road into Marseilles but they still had a long way to drive before they could do that. They drove in silence now each immersed in their own thoughts. Thranduil, Glorfindel and Elrond were consummate warriors and they could feel the prickling of senses that told them that this part of the journey to Haldir and Elladan would not be without danger. The note had merely confirmed their fears. Before they started out from Turin Thranduil had opened the trunk of the Range Rover to reveal a virtual armoury of weapons. Elrond would normally have been overjoyed to see Hadhafang again, the slim sword belonging to Idril that had seen battle so many millennia ago and which he had left, as he thought, with Arwen, but the idea that it may once again have to shed blood was distasteful for him.

He was also completely stunned to see Glamdring until Thranduil had explained that Mithrandir had left the sword with him because he did not feel it necessary to take it into the peace of Valinor. He had exacted a promise from the Elven King that he would return to Valinor with the sword before the Dagor Dagorath. Thranduil had laughed and put it in his armoury and then promptly forgot about it until he finally left his stronghold for the more modern world after the Ice Age had melted.

Glorfindel's sword, Celeghathol or Swiftblade, had travelled over from Valinor with him. Even in the peace of Aman he had not allowed it to leave him and be put on display or left to rust in some armoury. It was as sharp and lethal as it had been the day he had faced the Balrog. He had made no apology to the Herald when he withdrew it from its embossed leather case on arrival at the Herald's home and Thranduil had made no comment when he shoved it into the trunk of the Range Rover at the start of their trip.

Thranduil himself had no sword with him, but he did have a set of bone handled knives that Legolas had commissioned for him and which Gimli had asked the Dwarven smiths to make. He had no doubt that the gift was meant more ceremonially than as an actual set of working knives for combat, but they too had been lovingly cared for and honed to perfection. Apart from them he had a very powerful looking automatic weapon that he referred to as a P90 and a wicked looking silver dagger that he had named Limlhug or Serpent.

He had armed them all with Hechler & Koch USP single and double action Tactical Pistols and they had taken a chance against ambush and stopped off in a remote place on the road where he had given them a quick lesson in gunmanship. Ironically it was Celebrian who took to firing the pistol like a duck to water and was alarmingly accurate with the weapon. Glorfindel and Elrond seemed reluctant to embrace the modern fighting weapons. However with some persistence Thranduil had convinced them, but he knew that were a real fight take place they would both use their swords.

"The terrain is starting to become quite unpopulated." Elrond commented.

Thranduil nodded but kept his concentration on the road ahead. "There is a particularly barren part of the plain a couple of miles down the road. No towns and very few habitations. Plenty of cover on either side for someone to wait in and jump us. Very little chance of many vehicles after dark."

"Surely we don't have to stop. We can go faster can't we?" Celebrian could not keep the worry out of her voice and Elrond, who now sat in the back with her, pressed his hand on hers in reassurance.

"We can." Thranduil smiled grimly. "But according to Finrod and Kim these things are preternaturally fast and it really depends on whether they try to chase us or actually mount an ambush of some kind. If they are sent from as powerful a leader as Lord Eonwe suspects we don't know what kind of surprises he has in his arsenal for stopping a vehicle either technical or from his own dark power. We will _try_ to ride through if we can, but if we have to stop then we will have to fight. We mustn't let them separate us. I suggest that we stand back to back in a tight circle if we can, but much will depend on our manner of alighting from the vehicle."

"We should get out on the same side." Glorfindel offered. "The driver's side, that way we are all together on the same side of the car."

They nodded in agreement but it seemed like a pathetic plan, however when they set out from England to find Arwen's burial place they hadn't envisaged the fact that they might have to fight for their lives. The attack, when it came, was therefore an actual relief for all of them, although their plan of defense didn't quite pan out the way they had discussed.

Despite Finrod's warnings _none_ of them were prepared for the speed of the creatures or for the fact that the Range Rover just suddenly died on them for no apparent reason. One minute they were speeding along, the next Thranduil was desperately trying to control a spin as the car's power just sputtered out. As he steered into the spin in an attempt to halt the Range Rover his blood almost curdled in his veins as he caught sight of a most monstrous and fearsome creature as it leaped from the bushes into the middle of the road. There was a heavy thud on the top of the vehicle as another of the creatures leapt from behind onto the roof and a vicious set of claws were thrust clear through the metal of the roof and in between Elrond and Celebrian who each scrunched far to their own side to avoid being skewered.

The Range Rover spun crazily from side to side and ran off the road, plunging through the hardy bushes and finally stopped dead hurling the werewolf clean over the bonnet. It rolled a couple of times and then staggered to its feet. It was clear to all the Elves that remaining in the car would be tantamount to suicide, the wolves would just rip it to pieces to get at them. With one accord they opened the doors and jumped out, not all on one side as it happened, but each on their side of the car. Celebrian had strapped Hadhafang to her side, but it was the Hechler & Koch pistol that she wielded and even as she jumped out of the car Thranduil heard the harsh snick of the safety catch being switched off. He smiled with satisfaction even as he readied his own gun.

For his part Glorfindel did not hesitate. He swung his bright sword over his head and it arced down even as the werewolf galloped towards them. The keen blade sliced through muscle, sinew and bone of one outstretched paw with its long curved claws and the creature roared in pain as the blood spurted out in a fountain showering the Elf Lord in a spatter of gore, much to his disgust as he was wearing his favourite leather trench coat.

Neither Elrond or Thranduil had time to assist him or debate the issue because by this time another werewolf appeared breaking cover from the bushes and was heading straight over to where Celebrian was randomly firing her pistol into anything that had fur and fangs, although few of the rounds obviously found their mark in the blur of the fighting and she had not seen her impending peril. Using all of his strength to thrust the huge creature off him, Elrond managed to abandon his opponent and tried to run around the car to thrust Celebrian behind him only to find that she was no longer there. He frantically looked around only to see the horrific sight of her being dragged off by her long silver hair, she simply hadn't had the sheer physical strength to fight it off. Her pistol lay on the ground where the wolf had knocked it out of her hand. A sob of utter despair escaped him but a blast of hot foetid breath on the side of his cheek told him that he had his own troubles. He turned to find fearsome twisted features and fangs only inches away from his face and was forced to rejoin the fight.

Thranduil was in the middle of his own battle when he realised that Celebrian had been carried off. He had managed to get off a few rounds but the gun was actually useless against the Lycans. In spite of having taken the brunt of at least half a dozen rounds, the werewolf attacking him had not even slowed down. In fact the horrified Thranduil could actually see the wolf's skin ejecting the rounds as it reached for him again.

It also became evident to him that they were not using their claws to tear them to pieces which could mean only one thing...they had orders to keep them alive and it was that fact that worked in the Elves' favour.

"_He's....not....dying..._" Glorfindel gasped as he wrestled with his own, now one armed, wolf. Not that this stopped it from managing to make a good account of itself. Glorfindel plunged his sword repeatedly deep into the barrel chest of the wolf but it made no difference. "Why...won't...you...die?"

The penny dropped. In an effort borne from desperation Thranduil managed to land a punishing punch on his wolf's sensitive muzzle and it yelped and howled in pain and leaped back a couple of paces. He groped for Limlhug with his other hand and then lunged forward and struck the wolf straight in the chest. The howl turned into a scream of agony and there was a sizzling sound as the blood boiled around the wound. Thranduil withdrew the blade and the wolf fell to its knees gasping out its last shuddering breath. Even as its body folded up it had already began to transform back to its human form. Even _more_ disturbing, the human form began to almost dissolve in front of the astonished Elf's eyes.

"Silver." Yelled Thranduil. "Silver kills them!"

"Well why in the name of the Valar didn't you say so before?"

Even in the midst of battle Elrond managed to sound frantic, disapproving and irritated all at the same time. Thranduil tossed him the dagger and he slashed his opponent around the huge barrel chest before thrusting the blade directly into where he had figured the creature's heart would be.

Unfortunately the wolf had seen its companion's demise. He howled once and disengaged from fighting the now infuriated Elrond whose killing blow with the dagger missed. At the same time the wolf Glorfindel had been fighting also disengaged itself. Both of them loped after the other wolf, the one who had Celebrian, and it was clear that they had decided to cut their losses. Herumor would have to make do with one of his targets. After all the failure was partially his fault in that he had omitted to tell them that their prey weren't exactly defenseless, quite the contrary in fact. Wahtever they had been led to believe three tall shining warriors had not been on the menu. None of the Lycans were a genius, but they weren't stupid enough to stay around under those circumstances.

As the Lycans disappeared into the bushes the three enraged Elf Lords took to their heels after them with Elrond way in front almost flying across the ground without his feet touching it, Elves could also run fast when they needed to and they had a very good reason for pursuit. In the minds of each of them was Celebrian and the attack she had endured in the Redhorn Pass so many millennia earlier. This was almost like history repeating itself.

ooOoo


	15. The Great Escape

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **The previous chapter was a very difficult one to write for some unknown reason, even though I had gone over it in my mind and I knew what I wanted to convey. I did not want the four werewolves to take the focus away from Maksim and the Elves, but at the same time they were still an important part of the focus. Hopefully I succeeded without disturbing the flow of the story too much.

"Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. Only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape. "

_- __**William S Burroughs**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 15 – The Great Escape**

**The bridge over the crossing of the Mirabeau water gap of the Durance River, Haut-de-Provence, France**

Maksim only waited a few seconds for an attack that never came. He heard the sounds of squealing tires and the crashing through the underbrush which told him that the Range Rover had been forced off the road. To his immense surprise he also heard a clash of steel among gunfire and his head jerked around in the direction of the sounds of battle to see his erstwhile assassin plunging through the bushes in the same direction.

Apparently the smell of battle and blood had been too much for him to remember his orders. Maksim managed a dry chuckle and felt in his pocket for the car keys. He mentally thanked both those shining otherworldly beings and the Lycans for making it so easy for him to make his escape. At the same time he felt a pang of guilt at leaving without at least making some attempt to prevent what was happening only a short distance away. The two new disparate, divided halves of his being that had made an appearance over the past few hours were now in direct conflict with each other. Every vampire instinct he possessed told him that he needed to make himself scarce, but the other part of him, the newly emerging good guy part, was urging him to help those stunning creatures who were so full of light. Not that it seemed that they _needed _all that much help.

Realistically he knew that his kind would probably be given short shrift by these beings. They wouldn't necessarily view him as a friendly party despite his written warning to them or even whether he helped them against the Lycans. So what was he to do?

The fates have a strange way of ordering things for us and it was that moment's indecision that was to force Maksim into an action that would have reverberating effects on his life.

He had already switched the engine on and put the car into gear when Red appeared back beside it. He had transformed fully by this time and Maksim noticed absently that his fur had a reddish tinge to it as he pressed his long snarling muzzle to the car window steaming it up with his hot breath. Maksim's first instinct was to accelerate and drive off and he would have done so had it not been for the sight of the limp blood spattered form with its long silver hair, now matted with twigs, bits of leaf and dirt, in Red's grasp.

Real rage now clouded Maksim's vision when he realised that the exquisite silver lady of the night before had been captured. By the sounds of the battle, things were not going quite the way that Fallon and his friends had anticipated. They had certainly not anticipated their prey putting up such a fight and skinny, geeky little Red had seen his own chance of redemption, not in a vampire's demise, but in the opportunity of snatching the female prey at least. Something that both he and Maksim knew that Herumor would value greatly even if the others were dispatched to wherever they went when they finally died. The boy was apparently not so stupid after all.

So, much to even his own surprise, Maksim did _not _accelerate and make his getaway. Instead he flung himself to the passenger side door and jumped out of the car. His intention was crystal clear to the werewolf who immediately saw an opportunity to carry out his original orders in addition to getting the kudos for capturing the female. He howled in challenge and flung Celebrian to the ground like a discarded rag doll where she lay without movement even though she was actually still conscious.

Inside Celebrian fought against the terror that was threatening to overcome her, but she knew that in remaining still and allowing this foul creature to think she was senseless lay her best chance for escape. She closed her mind and her ears to the shouts and snarls. She did not want to think... nay, _could _not think... about whether Elrond and the others were being torn apart or whether they were winning. Self survival took over as it had not done in the den of the orcs so long ago.

She was aware that the man sitting in the driver's seat had alighted by now and through half closed lids it was plain to her that he wasn't actually helping the werewolf, in fact he was actually confronting it for some reason known only to them. This was her chance to get away while these two were busy fighting each other. She quietly began to edge away towards the back of the vehicle. There was no clear idea in her mind as to what she was going to do, but flight onto the road seemed the most sensible choice. At least there she had a chance of another vehicle passing by.

ooOoo

Out of the corner of his eye Maksim saw the subtle movement as the woman edged slowly towards the back of the car, but he could not pay her more than a passing attention. Red was growling in that low way that would make most mortals quake in their boots and pee their pants, but Maksim was no mortal. In the time it took the inexperienced Red to try and fill his opponent with nerve shattering terror Maksim had swept the long wicked silver blade of his knife up and across the werewolf's throat in a wide flashing arc that almost severed his head from his body. Red slumped to the ground and began to transform vback into a human. Like Thranduil, Maksim was taken back to see Red's human form begin to dissolve into the earth as though it had never existed.

_This_ was something new, but the vampire had no time to take the information in and process it. He turned back to the car and to his relief the engine was still running. He jumped in and prepared to drive off.

By this time Celebrian had managed to get around to the other side of the car and was limping away from it as fast as she could towards the road, blood flowing from wounds in one of her legs and hampering her speed.

Maksim stared after her almost casually. His inner sense told him that it was unlikely she would reach the road without collapsing and the sounds of flight from the remaining Lycans were getting closer. He smiled in grim amusement. So Fallon and his mates were being bested to the point of running away were they? They had obviously seen Red take the woman and had decided to cut their losses against losing their fight with a more superior foe.

Even as he watched her and weighed up her chances of survival he saw the first Lycan appear through the bushes behind him. The black tinge to the edge of the grey fur told him that it was Fallon and he felt a momentary amusement that he was starting to be able to tell the Lycans apart from each other. They had all looked the same to him up until now. He could not see their pursuers but with that Lycan speed it was more than likely that they would outrun them and pick the woman up along the way. Once into the thick bushes and trees their pursuers would be hard put to follow them on foot.

Celebrian had been spotted by this time and the Lycan in the lead howled his triumph and veered off after her while the other two made for the car obviously with the intent to drag him out, kill him and use it for getting away as per the original plan. Maksim muttered a series of curses under his breath. It seemed he was being given a choice, either to drive off now and leave the silver lady to her hideous fate or to step up to the plate and perform one unselfish, good act for the first time in many centuries of evil doing.

"Oh _this _just keeps getting better and better." He groaned and swung the car up towards the road and the fleeing woman.

ooOoo

Celebrian's breath was sobbing in her throat as she staggered across the uneven ground towards the road. Her chest was burning and her limbs felt like lead. She could not look backwards or she would have stumbled and fallen but her despair rose as she heard the pounding of pursuit behind her and she knew that even if she made it to the road her escape would be short lived. These creatures could run very fast, faster even than an Elf, they would soon overtake her and although she could feel that her husband was still alive through their link she had no idea how far behind the werewolves he was.

She was so lost in her thoughts of despair and defeat that she didn't hear _or _see the vehicle until it was almost on top of her. Gasping with terror she staggered and fell to her knees beside it and waited for her fate. The door opened from the inside so abruptly that it nearly knocked her flat on the ground and only her Elven reflexes allowed her to scrabble backwards and on to her heels which stabbed with sharp pain as she did so.

She found she was looking into the dark, saturnine features of the same man who had jumped out and dispatched her captor with such speed and aplomb.

"_Get in the car._" He hissed without preamble

She hesitated, heart pounding with fear high in her chest. Was she jumping from the fat into the fire here? The snarls and sounds of pursuit sounded only yards away.

"Fucking well _get in._" His voice was louder and more insistent this time. "They are coming and once they take you your friends won't be fast enough to catch up with them. Now get in the bloody car."

Celebrian didn't hesitate any further. She was between the devil and the deep blue sea, and if this man was the sea then at least she could try to swim. She jumped in the car and it sped off down the road at well over a hundred miles an hour.

The three pursuing Lycans shrieked and howled their fury to the world and chased the fast disappearing car down the road, but even with their speed they knew that they could still not have outrun the powerful vehicle they had chosen as their means of transport and there was no bag of tricks from Herumor to slow it down any more. They had failed in their appointed mission both to capture the prey and rid Herumor of the vampire. Returning with news of their failure was not an option. They had to regroup and make a new plan and this time the vampire would not survive and they would have at least _something _to show Herumor for their efforts.

It was pretty much the same sort of plan Red had come up with in fact.

The three Lycans veered back off the road into the open land and were far away from the three Elves when they finally reached the spot where the car and Celebrian had been only minutes before.

ooOoo

**A small Pension in Carcassone, France**

"Naneth!" Elladan abruptly sat up on the twin bed in the twin room that he and Haldir shared in the small pension they were staying in while waiting for Elrond and the others to arrive. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat on the edge of it shivering and gasping with fear.

Haldir got up and poured a drink of water for him. "What is it Elladan?" He helped Elladan take a sip of the water.

"My mother...there is danger." Elladan could hardly say the words. A wave of despair, sent along the silvery ribbon that linked him to his parents and most especially his mother, hit him and he let out a sob of anger and fear.

"Can you sense where they are?"

He shook his head. "No, but they are close. Close enough for me to know that they are in trouble and I can feel Naneth's despair." He gripped Haldir's arm. "She is in grave danger and she is hurt, I can feel it. Haldir, we _must_ go to her. I _cannot_ sit here doing nothing."

For the first time Haldir cursed the fact that he had not even tried to learn to drive. Lord Eonwe had been doubtful when they had said that if they were flying they had no need of a driver or the ability to drive and that they could use public transport or even a taxi cab. _Now_ Haldir could see the Herald's wisdom. Now they were stuck in the middle of a foreign country with neither of them knowing the language and unable to get themselves from one place to another without relying on something or someone else.

Haldir would have given both his kingdom and his soul for a horse at that moment in time, but he knew that in this day of fast modern transport even a horse, were they to find a couple, would not be able to get there quickly enough.

He therefore did the only thing he could think of; he picked up that fiendish mobile phone that Elladan was so inordinately proud of and dialed the Herald's telephone number in England.

ooOoo

**Meanwhile.... back on the motorway between Sisteron and Marseilles in France**

Elrond sank to the ground in exhaustion and despair. They had reached the spot where the Werewolves had parked their car only to find nothing but tire tracks and blood spattered on the ground. Glorfindel slumped down disconsolately against a fallen tree trunk and strived to get his breath. He was covered from head to foot in splashes of darkening blood and wore the same worried look as Thranduil who was busy examining the area around the tire tracks closely. He crouched down on his heels to search the ground for any tracks and saw the blood. With the keener senses of the Eldar he managed to distinguish between the blood shed by the wolf and Celebrian's blood simply by smell and appearance. He was relieved to se that there was a lot less of her blood than there was of the wolf's.

He stood up and regarded the direction that the tire tracks took with narrowed, speculative eyes. The car had obviously run onto the road but there were other tracks beside the tire tracks, those of paw prints, long paw prints, almost manlike, but not quite, with claws. The vehicle had apparently driven away with the wolves in pursuit, but why? This was very puzzling.

"They have got her." Elrond said, numb with despair. He had not kept her safe, He had brought her back here to this marred place and had not kept her safe. It was his fault, entirely his fault.

Thranduil caught the self=destructive thoughts quite easily and strode over to him, clamping strong hands on the half-Elf's shoulders. He shook him gently but firmly. "_Stop_ it Elrond, this will not help us or Celebrian. I am not so sure the wolves _do _have her."

Elrond looked up through tear filled eyes at his friend. "What do you mean?"

Thranduil impatiently turned him in the direction of the tire tracks. "Take a look for yourself. You are enough of a tracker to see what I see."

By this time Glorfindel had walked over to make his own assessment. He hunkered down beside the tracks and then sat back on his heels. "They weren't in the car Elrond, They were running behind the car." he said finally.

Elrond stood up and went over to him. "Yes I can see that." He acknowledged. "But the other wolf, the one that grabbed Celebrian,_ he_ could have been driving. The car with her in it I mean."

Thranduil smiled grimly. "Yes he could have, but why would he not have stopped to pick the others up?" He went back over to the pools of blood. "And why is there a pool of blood on the ground here which patently is not blood from an elf? No...I think that the person who warned us was travelling with them. For some reason he is not on their side or is on his own side at the very least. I think he killed the wolf who took your wife and then took her with him in the car."

"He double-crossed them!" Glorfindel exclaimed. "The dirty double-crossing bastard!"

Both Thranduil's and Elrond's head swiveled around to him.

"Glorfindel!" Even through his despair Elrond managed to be shocked and despite their dire situation Thranduil sniggered at the golden Elf Lord's rather inappropriate use of the modern idiom.

"Well he is!" Glorfindel said defensively. He drove his blood stained sword into the ground to try and clean it off. "He wanted to take at least _one_ of us back to his evil Master and get all the praise."

Elrond shook his head wearily. "Remind me to get rid of that television when we get back will you?" He said to Thranduil.

Thranduil chuckled. "I will, but between Elladan and Glorfindel I think you may have a fight on your hands. At any rate Glorfindel may be right. It may be that the person who warned us has their own agenda, but I am not so sure what that agenda is. Can you feel Celebrian through your link with her?"

Elrond calmed himself and searched inside for the slender silvery ribbon that always linked him with his wife _and_ his sons. He sent out a tentative message to Celebrian which was not answered at first. He was just about to give up when finally he felt her. He probed deeper but then came up against a mental barrier. She was very much alive, but she was hurt, and apparently not in a position to answer him although he sensed wariness in her rather than fear.

"She's alive." He said finally. The tears spilled over. "I can sense her, she is not afraid, but is very cautious. We need to follow her Thranduil."

"I agree." The former Elven King spoke in a soothing voice. "So we head back to our car and see if we can get it moving."

"And if we can't?" Glorfindel spoke quietly, voicing words that none of them wanted to hear. "What then?"

Thranduil grinned at them. "Then we use my trusty mobile to get us help and transport. This isn't Middle-earth in the third Age you guys. This is the age of the Automobile Association and the RAC or the French equivalent. It's also the age of the plastic, we can hire another car and head off in pursuit. Or we can phone Eonwe and ask him for help." He started walking back in the direction of the Range Rover and the other two followed him.

"But how will we find them?" Elrond asked plaintively.

"Oh I don't know... perhaps a beautiful lady with long silver hair in a car with a couple or three werewolves chasing after them won't attract too much attention. Do you think? And there is your link with your wife. She's scared now but once she gets more control there's no telling what images she may send you." Thranduil's cheerful tones trailed away as he disappeared behind a clump of trees and the other two had to speed up to keep up with him.

ooOoo

**A small Pension in Carcassone, France an hour later**

Haldir and Elladan were both a bit startled when there was a soft knock on their door. Haldir had spoken to Eonwe who had told them to stay put until someone came for them. They had resignedly prepared themselves to a fairly long wait, so the knock on the door not an hour later took them by surprise.

They were even more surprised to find Eonwe himself standing in the small corridor outside their bedroom. The Herald regarded them quizzically from the doorway and smiled gently at them.

"How...?" Elladan stuttered. Haldir said nothing but the stunned look on his face said it all.

Eonwe raised an eyebrow. "How did I get here so quickly?" He came into the room. "You forget what I am child. I may be in Ennorath as Gary Matthews but I am still Maia and I can disincarnate at will if the situation requires it of me. I am sorry it took this long for me to get here. I had to ask the General for leave to come here. Luckily he was happy to grant it. I have settled your bill with the Pension owner, so get your things together because we are leaving. I understand Thranduil, Glorfindel and the others will wait for us in Marseilles, so we have a fairly long drive ahead of us."

"My mother?" Elladan stopped shoving his clothes willy-nilly into his pack to confront the Herald and Haldir sighed softly and calmly took what the Peredhil had packed out and repacked it properly.

"Your mother is alive, but not with your father and the others." Eonwe answered. "She seems unhurt and is with person or persons unknown at the moment."

"But she _is_ alive...?" Elladan was insistent.

Eonwe grasped his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "Yes, she is alive and able to communicate with your father, although he says she seems wary rather than afraid. That would indicate to me that she is in no immediate danger. We don't know why this other person had taken her yet. We will not speak of these things here though. Let's get on the road to meet up with your father and the others and we will discuss our next moves then."

Fifteen scant minutes later they were in a vehicle with Eonwe driving and on their way to meet up with Thranduil and company, less one.

ooOoo


	16. In the Company of Angels

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Many apologies for the delay in posting the next chapter. I had a few much needed days away at a friend's house and feel lighter for it. Thanks again to those who reviewed and who I have answered privately. Thank you again to Ellfine who has a busy life and a family and doesn't have a lot of time. I appreciate that you find a space in the day to read my stories.

"It is not because angels are holier than men or devils that makes them angels, but because they do not expect holiness from one another, but from God alone. "

_- __**William Blake**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 16 – In the company of Angels**

**The road to Marseilles**

Celebrian sank back against the front seat of the vehicle. Her legs were throbbing and her head where the werewolf had nearly torn her hair out by the roots while dragging her across the ground no less so. She gingerly lifted her arm and probed the area, wincing as the throb turned into a stab of sharp pain.

"We can see to that when I've managed to shake them off." Her new captor's voice was gruff but not, she noticed, unkind. "In the meantime if you open the glove compartment there are some antiseptic wipes in there you can use to clean it as we drive."

She obediently opened the glove compartment in front of her and found the wipes quite quickly. They turned out to be small soft cloths suffused in some sharp, but not unpleasant smelling, substance reminiscent of Elrond's healing rooms in Imladris. She gently dabbed at her head until the man, or whatever he was, beside her took his attention off the road long enough to pull down a shade which had a mirror on the inside. That made it much easier, but she still hissed in pain as the antiseptic wipe stung her raw skin.

"There's some bottled water in the door compartment down by your side if you're thirsty. We can't risk stopping yet to get anything else. Once they have regrouped they will be relentless in their pursuit of us."

Celebrian cast a quick glance at him. He was actually a very attractive looking man with short dark hair, a lean very pale face and deep set dark eyes. He felt different to both the wolf and the Edain she had met since her arrival back in Middle-earth and yet there seemed to be no threat emanating from him. However being of the Eldar it was quite easy for her to see his true nature beneath the skin. He was of a race that she had never thought to ever meet, never mind end up running for her life with.

"I am Celebrian, wife of Elrond Earendilion." She ventured an introduction cautiously. She deliberately didn't mention that she was an elf since she had no idea how that news would be received.

He glanced at her and smiled grimly. "I am Maksim and a member of the Castle Batiz vampire coven...and you are no human I think, Herumor would not be seeking to capture you if you were nothing but a mere human. So... _what _are you?"

She exhaled a soft sigh of resignation. "I am of the Eldar. The Elven folk." She finally said softly. "And you...you are one of Thuringwethil's spawn I deem. Even in our day during the Second and Third Ages of this place there were rumours that some of her children yet remained."

Now she had succeeded in startling him twice over. The Elves? She was an _elf_? He immediately thought of Tolkien's writings which he had read many years ago. Surely they were nothing but a myth or part of a story?

"You know of the Lady?" He asked.

"If by the Lady you mean Thuringwethil, a fallen Maia who threw her lot in with Melkor, then yes." She nodded and then regretted the action as her head throbbed even more.

"Better not move your head around too much." He advised. "I doubt that Red was too gentle when he grabbed you. He was too busy making hay while the sun shone."

She smiled for the first time since getting into the car. "Red?"

He shrugged slightly. "My name for my would-be killer, on account of his red hair. He was an idiot, couldn't even succeed at capturing someone never mind kill me."

"Whereas you succeeded...in capturing me I mean." She said softly and hung her head, the long silver curtains of her hair hid the expression on her face and she was glad, because she didn't want him to see the sudden stab of fear that assailed her.

This time there was silence; a silence long enough for her to dare to look at him again. He was not looking at her, but rather staring at the road in front of him through the front windshield, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard that the white bone of his knuckles shone just below the surface.

Finally he spoke. "You are not my captive." He said roughly. "In fact you're a burden I did not look for. All I thought to do was make my escape from the Lycans and by doing so release myself from Herumor's service. Now your presence in this car means that I can do neither."

"And yet...you still rescued me." Her voice was soft.

Maksim sighed. "I do not like Herumor, I would not leave a rat from the sewers in his charge and I despise the Lycans as much as they despise Vampires. There is no love lost between the two races. I saw you...you and the others...the other night as you crossed the road into the Bistro in Turin. You are all light to my dark, yet even so I could not leave you to the fate which I knew awaited you. I had already planned my own escape, it seemed a little enough thing to give you warning of the ambush."

"So it was you who wrote the note? Why did you not come forward and speak to us?"

"Yes it was me, but as for speaking to you directly, I know that my kind would not be welcomed among your kind." He sounded a little impatient now.

Celebrian did not answer. She sat quietly watching the French countryside flash by in the dark. "Where are we going?"

"I'm heading for Marseilles." He said in a neutral voice. "It's a big city with a lot of heat signatures given off by the blood surging through veins. That's partly how they and my kind hunt, although our sensing of blood is more sensitive. They rely a great deal on smell, it will take them a long time to sort through the smells of Marseilles and the human flotsam and jetsam that congregate there. Unfortunately you have a peculiarly distinct scent and eventually they will succeed."

"What do you intend to do with me?"

He glanced at her again, but soon turned his attention back to the road and his driving. "I do not intend to do _anything _with you. I intend to take you somewhere relatively safe where you can contact your friends and get them to come and collect you. Preferably _long _after I have gone. I do not wish your fate on my conscience, nor do I wish you to end up in Herumor's hands. Once we are in Marseilles we will try to find out where your friends are, although I suspect that they will not be far behind us once they are mobile. I have friends in Marseilles who will help us in the meantime."

"Are they like you?" Her voice sounded hesitant.

That grim smile of his appeared once more. "You mean are they vampires? Unfortunately yes they are. Under normal circumstances, on your own you would be nothing more to them than an exquisite meal or a beautiful woman to turn, if you are capable of being turned. However you are not on your own, you are with me and if they believe that you belong to me, they will not touch you. And they have no love for the Council of Covens. They have chosen to live apart and do their own thing. They are also concerned with the rise of Herumor as a power among us. Already he has made himself known to them and they fear for their continuing existence."

"Who is this Herumor?" She asked curiously. "And what happened to Thuringwethil, does she still live?"

He looked surprised. "You have not heard of Herumor? I thought you _must _have known. He is a foul, fell creature such as the world has not seen before. His dark power is rising. I assumed that this was why you were here."

Celebrian nodded. "We did come at the request of the Herald to help with the darkness, but as yet we do not know where the darkness comes from."

"The herald?"

"He is Lord Eonwe, a Maia mightiest in arms and the Herald of Lord Manwe, the Elder King who resides in the Blessed Realm."

Maksim whistled softly under his breath, although he did not know what a Maia was, he had heard of the Blessed Realm, it was accounted to be just another myth, a place where the angels of God dwelled. "Then.._.this_ is something big. End of the world big. It _has_ to be if the angels themselves are getting involved. This is not just Herumor starting a fight between Vampires and Lycans because he wants to be a power base. He has to be representing someone much more vile."

Celebrian looked confused. "Angels? I do not understand the reference."

"Angels as in messengers from God or fallen Angels being associated with Lucifer."

She still shook her head in confusion. "Things have much changed since our day. In our day the Valar were powerful and the Maia were second only to them. They and everything else sprang into being from the Music of Iluvator, who created all things. Thuringwethil was a Maia and when Morgoth, one of the Valar, fell into evil she became his servant along with others, the Valarauko and Draugluin the werewolf."

Maksim was fascinated. This all went so much deeper into the origins of the earth than he had ever imagined. He had known, as they all did, that the Lady was ancient, so ancient that she now required many centuries of sleep in between periods of incarnation, but now he was beginning to realise just _how _ancient she actually was. _Before _time she and the others and these Eldar had existed. The woman beside him was also incredibly ancient as were her companions and they moved in the company of angels.

This was much, _much_ bigger than he could even _begin_ to imagine. He glanced at the silver Elf-lady next to him. Her eyes were now closed and he wondered if she slept. Probably best that she did. Whatever happened, he needed to get them both off the open road to the relative safety of a big city. If they still couldn't contact her husband and their friends then his only recourse was to take her to London, there he could make contact with the only big coven who had not yet bowed to Herumor. Hopefully they had contacts he did not and they were powerful enough to offer protection.

He tentatively sent his innate vampire senses out around him trying to see where the Lycans were. At first the messages that came back to him were muddy, but he concentrated a little harder and finally he was able to see that they were indeed in pursuit.

He put his foot down harder and the car virtually flew along the French motorway. Hopefully the French police would not stop him for speeding before he reached the outer suburbs of the city. Celebrian sat unmoving and although her eyes were now open, he could see they were blank as if she were walking in some other world. He shrugged, it was probably for the best really, any world other than this one they were in was bound to be a lot nicer even if it _was _a dream world.

The sky was showing signs of light in the east and Maksim knew that he had to get to Marseilles and his friends before dawn rose properly.

Thirty minutes later the first twinkling of lights of the city of Marseilles and a glimpse of the sea beyond appeared on the horizon and the sky was rosy with the dawn.

ooOoo

**Also on a French motorway somewhere between Carcassone and Marseilles**

Eonwe drove fast, but very expertly, along the French roads. An anxious Elladan sat beside him and Haldir walked the path of dreams in the back seat, clearly showing a warrior's knack of catching rest while he could. Under normal circumstances Elladan would have been doing the same and Eonwe had advised him to do just that, but the young ellon could not relax. This was his mother who was in danger and Eonwe knew that Elladan's mind was filled with the same fear that had assailed him all those millennia ago.

The Herald also sent out his considerable power in order to see if he could sense where Celebrian was. It took a while to find her and they were already three quarters of the way to Marseilles when he finally caught the delicate tendrils of her mind. From that he managed to ascertain that she was relaxed, possibly even sleeping which might explain why Elladan's frustrated attempts at connecting with his mother had failed. The Maia had greater power than he did however and he managed to enter Celebrian's dreams long enough to tell her that help was on its way before he was forced to draw back and communicate with a much more powerful being.

The news he received from Lord Manwe made him blink a little in surprise and then he smiled to himself.

This news was definitely unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome.

ooOoo

**The residence of Gary and Kim Matthews, Hampshire England**

"_Ding_ dong, ding _dong_." Allie, even immersed as she was in her own game of building a castle with her blocks, merrily echoed the noise of the doorbell even as it rang and echoed down the hallway.

Maedhros put a block down carefully on the construction, completing the walls of the keep and the child crowed with delight. She carefully set down a tall knight carved in metal by Aule himself in the middle of the keep, although she had no real knowledge of who he really was.

"Daddy!" She pointed at the carved knight, giggled and put another smaller knight down beside the other one. "_Ding _dong, ding _dong._" She carolled happily as the doorbell rang again.

Maedhros glanced up as he heard footsteps, probably Erestor, heading for the door. "And who might the other knight be sweetling?" He asked absently.

There were voices in the hallway and Allie clapped her hands at first before her little face fell. "Not Daddy yet." She said and the perfect half of a rosebud of her bottom lip quivered. She picked up the little figure. "This is you."

Maedhros had no need to ask her how she knew that it wasn't her father back yet. The child was half Maia and although she was a normal child in most respects her understanding of matters deep down was actually quite advanced.

Allie looked up through incredibly thick black lashes, so reminiscent of her father's, at the tall red-haired Elf. "It's for _yoo _hoo!" She sang out.

Maedhros stared at her blankly. "For me? What is for me?"

The little girl jumped up and held out her hand. The tall elf sighed and unfolded himself from his curled position on the floor. He took the proffered small hand and, totally bemused, he allowed himself to be led to the door which he opened.

The late morning bright sunlight shone through the glass in the front door, highlighting the tall cloaked form of the person Erestor had obviously just admitted, but not allowing him to see who it was. Erestor walked past Maedhros and Allie and as he did so he smiled and squeezed Maedhros's arm. It was the friendliest gesture he had offered the Kinslayer yet and Maedhros wondered at it.

Kim was standing beside the cloaked figure offering to take the cloak and even as the figure slipped it from her shoulders he knew who beyond any shadow of a doubt who it was.

"_Amille?" _He could hardly believe his own eyes and he inadvertently gripped the little girl's chubby hand harder than he would ever have done normally.

"You hurtin' my hand Unca Madie." Allie sounded quite matter of fact. "Who is dat?" She pointed at the tall woman with the thick, unruly dark hair shot through with ruddy highlights.

The tears were falling unheeded down Maedhros's cheeks.

"It is my mother sweetling." He whispered hoarsely.

Kim picked Allie up even as he ran forwards and swept his mother into his arms. She gave a soft cry of sheer joy and wept into his shoulder. When she finally looked up she found herself gazing into the dark blue eyes of the Herald's little daughter currently sitting comfortably in her mother's arms. The little girl regarded her solemnly for a moment, then she took a thumb out of her mouth. She offered the damp chubby hand to the woman in Maedhros's arms.

"Who you?" Her voice was filled with a child's blunt curiosity and Kim laughed with embarrassment and told her not to be so rude.

Nerdanel gave a sob of laughter. "No, no, do not chastise the little one." She took the chubby fist and pressed it to her cheek. I am Nerdanel, mother to Lord Maedhros and Maglor nethben."

Maedhros let his mother go and took a step back.

"Not that I'm not glad to see you Amille, but what the _devil_ are you doing here?"

ooOoo

Amille - Mother


	17. Police Officer Finrod Felagund

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Thank you again for the reviews. I have answered those I was able to answer. My health is not fantastic, but I am not dying either which is a positive thing Ellfine, thank you so much for asking. It's just that since the Gulf War my compromised immune system is getting worse as I get older. That means that I am more likely to get sick and I take longer to recover from being sick. It didn't help that I had a very very bad fall on a bus about six weeks ago and I have hurt my back and both of my knees. That on top of Bell's Palsy (paralysis of the seventh cranial nerve) which paralysed the whole left side of my face was just the icing on the cake really. The paralysis is about 85% recovered now, but my left eye still doesn't blink and the left side of my mouth tends to do its own thing from time to time.

So there you have it. Writing has been my saviour along with the online games of World of Warcraft and Lord of the Rings Online. Without them, I think my sanity would have long since flown away!

And that's enough about me!

"The Metropolitan Police, MI5 (Security Service), and the MI6 (Secret Intelligence Service)

are all trying to prove that they are the best at apprehending criminals.

The Home Secretary decides to give them a test. He releases a rabbit into a forest

and each of them has to catch it.

MI5 goes in.  
They place animal informants throughout the forest.  
They question all plant and mineral witnesses.  
After three months of extensive investigations they

conclude that rabbits do not exist.

MI6 goes in.  
After two weeks with no leads they burn the forest,

killing everything in it, including the rabbit, and they make no apologies.  
The rabbit had it coming.

The Metropolitan Police go in.  
They come out two hours later with a badly beaten bear.  
The bear is yelling: "Okay! Okay! I'm a rabbit! I'm a rabbit!"

_- __**Old Police Joke (anon)**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 17 – Police Officer Finrod Felagund**

**Metropolitan Police HQ, London**

"Gotcha, you bugger."

Finrod looked up in bemusement as Jim, currently hunched over a computer terminal in his police headquarters, chortled softly to himself triumphantly.

"You have found something?"

Jim grinned happily over the desk at Finrod who was, it had to be said, attracting his usual awestruck audience even among the hardened police officers of the Metropolitan Police. Finrod had caught more than one, both male and female, eying him over the top of their computer screens only to blush and duck down quickly once those amazing blue eyes caught their gaze.

In fact one such officer, a woman officer normally known for her toughness, was practically drooling across the desks at the beautiful Elf Lord even as he spoke.

Jim sat back in his chair and scowled at Finrod. "Can you stop being so damn beautiful?" He growled impatiently.

"I cannot help how I look. How does one make oneself look ugly?" Finrod commented mildly, he shrugged elegant shoulders and laughed.

The silvery tones of his laughter caused nearly everyone to smile, including the dour Detective Chief Superintendent back from a meeting with the Chief Constable. A meeting that had apparently irritated him if the expression on his face was anything to go by. However, he smiled at Finrod as he passed and swept into his office, slinging his briefcase on the chair as he went and gesturing to Jim at the same time.

"Moore? My office..._now_."

Jim jumped up and grimaced. "Oh shit, looks like my head is for the chopping block."

Finrod looked horrified. "He will order your head to be removed? Have the Secondborn not yet moved on beyond the primitive in all of these yeni?" He started to his feet in a lithe, fluid movement that elicited a whole barrage of sighs from the female watchers.

"Not literally Finrod." Came the exasperated reply. "I meant it figuratively, in that I've obviously done something to make him angry which means I am about to get a bollicking. Sit back down, I'll be out shortly, with or without a job."

He dashed into the Chief Superintendent's office leaving a very confused Finrod to sink back into the chair muttering to himself. "What is this 'bollicking' he speaks of? It sounds very painful."

"He means the Chief Superintendent is probably going to reprimand him." The female officer said in an amused tone of voice. "That's what a bollicking means."

Finrod smiled over at her and she felt the whole world light up around her. She had long known that she preferred the company of her own gender, but would have gladly made an exception for this beautiful man who trailed after the team junior like a lost puppy.

Although Finrod could not read minds he was astute enough to catch some of the thoughts passing his way. How could he not since they were written in her eyes.

He inclined his head. "My thanks for explaining." He replied carefully. "My familiarity with your language is not advanced yet."

She grinned at him. "Yeah, I...we...got that." She gestured around to the rest of the officers in the Incident Room. "I'm Detective Sergeant Jan Hall and you're from the Finnish police learning British police methods right?"

"Yes...." Finrod agreed happily, since that was the cover story for his presence with Jim. "The Finnish police. I am pleased to meet you Jan Hall."

The decision to make him Finnish had actually been Kim's suggestion originally and when asked for an explanation by the ever curious Finrod she had cast a naughty look over at her handsome husband and then blithely rambled on about tall beautiful and blond Finnish men frolicking merrily in the snow after naked saunas until the Herald had firmly grasped her arm and firmly suggested it was time for bed.

She had caused some snorts of laughter from Alun, Maglor and the others when she had waggled her eyebrows suggestively at Eönwë. "Bed?"

Eönwë had flushed bright red and started to herd her towards the door. "Yes bed...to sleep...I mean... we need an early night....early start..." His voice trailed off as they left the room. The gurgling of Kim's laughter as the mortified Herald railroaded his naughty wife up the stairs started the rest of them off laughing and Eönwë's ears had burned red as he followed Kim up to their bedroom.

"That was _not _what I meant." He had scolded her as she fell onto the bed doubled up with laughter.

"I know, I know." She cackled. "But you are just _sooo _easy to bait, you really are, and you look so cute when you blush."

The keen Elven ears of the company had heard every word clearly and even now Finrod chuckled softly to himself at the memory.

Jan got up from her chair and came around to perch on the side of the desk he was sitting at. A 'hot desk' Jim had called it. Something else that had puzzled Finrod since it didn't feel in the least bit warm. In fact there was quite a draft from somewhere around his ankles.

"Sooo.." She positively cooed at him. "They do it differently in Finland?"

Finrod flushed. "Do what?"

"Policing." She said dryly.

Finrod nearly collapsed in relief. For a minute there he had thought she meant something else. His mind had wandered from the obvious love between the Herald and Kim to his own wife Amarie.

"Oh, yes, many things are different." He said hastily. "So many that I could not even _begin_ to tell you."

Which was not strictly a lie, he consoled himself. He _couldn't _begin to tell this sharp-eyed policewoman anything about the Finnish police since he had absolutely no idea _what_ they were _or _what they did. He prayed for the door to the Superintendent's office to open and rescue him from this dangerous conversation and Iluvator must have been listening because it did open and a beaming Jim came out holding a slim buff folder in his hand.

"It's going to be a live case." He said excitedly waving the folder at Finrod who blinked and smiled. "Jeff Harris's sister has officially reported him missing, the blood that forensics pulled from her flat is definitely his. He's on the run and I think I know where he is!"

Jan Hall raised her eyebrows at him in amusement and slid off the desk to go back to her own desk.

"No, Jan...wait a minute." Jim stopped her and she looked at him in query. "We need to talk to you."

She sat back down, this time in a chair next to Finrod and waited. This was bound to be good. _Anything_ involving this stunning looking man was going to be good.

ooOoo

**Earlier....**

Jim quietly closed the door between the Chief Superintendent's office and the outer offices that comprised the Incident Room for the team's current murder case. DCS Whelan was obviously irritated and he didn't indicate for the young officer to sit which only made Jim more nervous and anticipating being lectured for getting too involved with what had in humorous Incident Room parlance been dubbed as 'The Shaggy Wolf Story".

Whelan sat down behind his desk and shoved a pile of folders to one side. He then took out another slim buff folder from his briefcase, opened it and leafed through the contents for a few seconds before looking up at his subordinate.

"Well Detective Constable, what do you have to say for yourself?" His tone was relatively mild, a fact which didn't make Jim feel any more comfortable.

"Sir?" Jim decided on innocence in the face of the lack of any other information, but he knew deep down in his bones that this was to do with the Jeff Harris case.

"Don't play the innocent with me." His boss snapped impatiently. "Why didn't you come to me when you realised that this was not just the usual kind of mugging and assault?"

Jim stiffened. "It was in my case report Sir." He pointed at a piece of paper on top of the others in the folder. "I assumed that you had read it."

Whelan stared at him intently for a moment, then he sighed heavily. "Yes, so it was and I have been so busy with this possible serial killer case that it dropped to the bottom of my priority list. Mea culpa, but it seems that _other_ people...people in positions of very high authority... believe that you may have something. That's why I was called to the Chief Constable's office this morning. Your..." He looked at the name on the top of the report. "...Mr Harris has become a person of some considerable interest in high places and as such, this is now an official case."

"Yes sir." Jim tried not to show his elation.

"Yes Sir." Whelan slowly repeated Jim's reply, shook his head and sat back in the chair. "Although the case will remain under my jurisdiction, because of the high priority of our current murder case the Chief Constable has decided to bring in another DCS... a damn good officer called Alun Davies, who apparently has some connection and experience with the nature of the case. DCS Davies has been on sick leave... but I suspect you know that, and him, better than I do. However he has agreed to head the case and his team will consist of yourself, Detective Sergeant Jan Hall as liaison between yourselves and me and this..." He hesitated slightly. "...this _Finnish _police officer currently causing mayhem in my Incident Room. What was his name again? Ah... yes. Finrod. Finrod the Finn, rather appropriate really."

He guffawed loudly at his own joke and Jim politely laughed with him, but inside he was exultant. Strings had been pulled at a very high level and Alun had obviously put his ten pence worth in as well.

"So you and Mr Finrod had better start briefing DS Hall now. Your new leading officer will be in later on this morning and I've no doubt that he will expect you all to be up to speed in this." Whelan shut the folder with a snap and held it out to Jim who took it. "DCS Davies will be in the next office, you, Officer Finrod and DS Hall will occupy your corner of the Incident Room and _don't_ let your stuff get mixed up with ours. That'll be all DC Moore, you're dismissed."

Jim snapped to attention. "Thank you sir." He was a bit perturbed at Jan Hall's inclusion in the case as a Liaison Officer, but with Alun's help they would come up with _something_ to keep her at bay.

Whelan looked up and a ghost of a smile swept across his face. "Don't thank me, thank your friend Davies who apparently has friends in _very _high places indeed. Don't let me down Moore."

Jim beamed at him. "I won't sir, I promise."

As the door closed behind Jim, Whelan sighed to himself. He took out another folder from his briefcase, one marked 'CLASSIFIED' across it in large red letters. He hesitated before opening it. His gut was telling him that whatever was in this folder he was not going to like it, but unfortunately he had no choice. The Chief Constable had not been the only person at that meeting earlier. A very high ranking British Army General had also been there along with the Home Secretary. They had sat very quietly while he had been briefed, then the civil servant produced this file and made him sign for its security.

He was told to read, ingest and then lock it away under the current security regulations for classified documents. Just the very nature of this file, never mind its contents, were enough to make all the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

Detective Chief Superintendent Martin Whelan had a very, _very_ bad feeling about both the file _and_ the Shaggy Wolf case.

He opened the file which was named simply _'Forest of Dean' _and reluctantly began to read.

ooOoo

**A disused Army camp, near Fremington, Devon**

Jeff Harris sat on the pile of mattresses and tried to summon up enough saliva to lubricate his dry cracked lips. He shivered with the cold and wrapped the tartan travelling rug he had taken out of the trunk of his sister's car around him tightly. The fact that he was naked didn't help. He was dirty, hungry and thirsty and only had the vaguest of memories of the last few days.

All around him on the floor was littered the detritus of his frantic efforts to gain sustenance in between the periods where his body changed. During those times he had no memory of his actions, but the fact that the previously neatly stacked iron bedsteads from the days when cadets and soldiers had used the camp were now in mangled pieces of wreckage around the barrack room gave evidence as to what he had been doing.

He hung his head and a dry sob escaped him. He had no real idea of how long he had been here, it seemed like centuries, but was probably only days. In that time, after the first painful few metamorphoses, he had managed to gain some sort of control over when and how he changed into this creature from the depths of hell.

After his triumphant success as controlling himself the last time he had fallen into a very deep and long sleep. He had been exhausted beyond belief and his tortured body had needed the rest. And now he need to get his act together. He needed clothes, food, water and above all, he needed to get out of here, not just because he must have made a devil of a racket with all the howling and screaming, but also because he knew that the siren call of those who were like him was getting closer and he may not have the strength to resist them. He did not want to lose himself, who he was at his core, and he some innate knowledge told him that he would if he allowed himself to be gathered up by them...the other wolves.

No... werewolves. That's what they.._he_..was.

He shuddered and another sob escaped him and this time his body managed to summon up enough moisture to produce tears which made tracks down his dirty face. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't go to his sister, not now, he didn't even know if she was alive or whether he was wanted for murder. The police were out of the question, they wouldn't believe that he periodically turned into a seven foot tall werewolf, they would certify him. He couldn't be near normal humans, not until he could control this completely. If the Police took him into custody...well...he shuddered violently again...they would see _just_ what a killer _really_ was.

What he really wanted was to walk out of here and go back to his normal life. He wanted his little house, a hot shower and to call his friends and go down the pub after work. Hell... he even missed his work and that realisation really started the tears falling.

He wept, for himself, for Lily and her son, for everything. He could never go back, he was changed and nothing would ever be the same.

Time passed, an hour and then another one before Jeff Harris straightened his shoulders and tried to strengthen his resolve. He needed to be clean first of all, one of the showers in the shower room still worked although it was cold water. Once he was clean he could find himself something to wear...in the car...he remembered that there was a pair of overalls in the trunk of Lily's car and then he would head away as far away from here as he could get and think through his options.

Jeff felt his eyelids drooping again and realised that every emotional or physical response brought on the extreme exhaustion. He needed to sleep, but when he woke up, _then_ he would put his plan into action. He had the presence of mind to set the alarm on his watch, still intact despite all the violent upheavals of his body. He couldn't afford to sleep more than a couple more hours.

_They_ were getting closer, he could feel them.

ooOoo


	18. Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Lovely reviews once again. Thanks to all of you. I have replied privately to all of you. I am having a lot of fun with Officer Finrod. I always suspected he had hidden depths and he's probably going to wish he'd hidden them a lot better before the story is through.

Once again I acknowledge the works and imagination of Fiondil for Eönwë in his role of Oathkeeper for Iluvator and for the masterful characterisations of Finrod and Glorfiindel. I recommend Fiondil's stories as a fascinating and absorbing read.

"The hardest part is feeling… out of control. Feeling like I can't be sure of myself—like maybe you shouldn't be around me, like maybe nobody should. Like I'm a monster who might hurt somebody"

_**Oz, Buffy the Vampire Slayer**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 18 – Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?**

**A small town on the outskirts of Marseilles**

It had taken the Herald little time to find Thranduil, Glorfindel and a very distressed Elrond who had taken refuge in a small town a few miles out of Marseilles. Thranduil was sitting at the bar drinking a lager and chasing it down with a small French brandy while Glorfindel was trying to persuade Elrond to drink the coffee while it was hot. Eönwë could already see that the Peredhel was distracted and tense, as well he should be given the situation.

He, Haldir and Elladan had strode into the cafe and after acknowledging Glorfindel with a smile of reassurance Eönwë had gone over to the bar and slid onto a neighbouring barstool with the former Elven King who gave him a ghost of a smile. Haldir joined them after making sure that Elrond was all right in his son's comforting presence.

"Want to know what happened?"

Thranduil sounded tired and Eönwë realised that the elf was exhausted from both driving and taking responsibility for the 'Babes in the Wood', another term coined by his wife in one of her many joking moods. He hadn't realised just how accurate and astute the term was until now.

He shook his head and put a comforting strong hand on Thranduil's arm. "Not necessary Thranduil. I already know what has happened.

"I bet you want to say I told you so." Thranduil responded weakly. He wanted to put more defiance in his tone but couldn't summon up the energy. In any case he could already see that the Herald was not sitting in judgment on him.

Eönwë 's mouth twitched into a smile. "No... what I want to say is well done on bringing them all through this in one piece."

"Not all..." Thranduil couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. "She, of all people, should not have had to go through this a second time. We should have been able to keep her safe."

Haldir said nothing, but he gestured to the bartender for three large brandies.

"She is currently unharmed." Eönwë said mildly. "A little wary perhaps, but I do not think that the man she is travelling with would have gone to the trouble of rescuing her from his Lycan companions only just to kill her further down the road."

"He serves the same master!" Thranduil said savagely. "How can you say that she isn't in danger. How do we know that he hasn't taken her to present to his foul Lord in order to gain his approval?"

Eönwë sighed. Along the road from Carcassone he had laboured long and hard to contact Celebrian and also to seek out the nature of the creature with her. He had been hard to sense and read, obviously a creature of great discipline. For the most part his thoughts were blocked even from the Maia's powerful probing and Eönwë did not wish to delve too deeply in case it put Celebrian in more danger. However what he had grasped from the man who drove the car they were in very fast was that they were headed to Marseilles and that the intention was to offload her to her kin...not take her to Herumor.

Herumor. What horrors would that name conjure up with Elrond and the others? He was, after all, from the Second Age of their lives in Middle-earth, an Age after the time of the Host of the Valar and his presence in Middle-earth This creature was a prominent Numenorean who had sailed east after the fall of Numenor along with one called Fuinur. They had both fallen under the Shadow after Sauron had been brought back to the island as the supposed prisoner of Ar-Pharazôn. Eönwë recalled both men as dour, humourless characters entranced with their new found positions of power at court, but were otherwise unremarkable. Apparently that had all changed when Sauron wielded his power over Numenor.

After landing on the shores of Middle-earth they had separated from the others and travelled south to the land of the Haradrim and there gained power. Thus was Sauron able to bring the Haradrim under his thrall. After all did he not already have lords subordinate to him already in place there? And yet this creature of Thuringwethil's had no love for Herumor and no desire to please the Lord of the Dark with a kingly gift. In fact, quite the the opposite. This vampire, spawn of one of Eonwe's fallen Maia kin, held Herumor in high loathing.

The question was...why?

It was now clear that Herumor was at the centre of the growing shadow over modern Arda, but who was at the root of that shadow?

He glanced over towards Elrond who seemed to be responding favourably to his son's presence. Elrond Earendilion was a Lore Master of the first order even among his peers in Aman. There was much locked away in that huge library of his in New Imladris, probably whatever was known of Herumor was locked away there too. The Herald sent a mental message through to Lord Manwe asking for assistance from both the Lady Artanis and her husband and Elrohir who remained on Aman with his wife and family. They had access to the scrolls and exquisitely penned and illustrated books of knowledge that Elrond and his household had brought with them so long ago.

A single response came back to him from Olorin. _I'm on it_.

Eönwë smiled inwardly. Of course, who _else_ would Lord Manwe go to for advice on something like this?

A questioning look from both Thranduil and Haldir brought the Herald out of his thoughts. He smiled his thanks at the waiter who brought the brandies and gestured to Thranduil and Haldir that they should join the others. Once seated, he took a sip of the brandy and rolled it around his tongue. This action along with many others that the incarnate enjoyed were things that Eönwë also took great pleasure in. He didn't miss it when he was unclad in flesh, but once in fana he had the same desires as any other. He felt a momentary pang of separation from Kim and his daughter, but forced it back down. These matters were more pressing and his family were safe. He needed to resolve this and get everyone back home so they could review their options in the light of what he now knew.

He finally swallowed the brandy and relished the warmth that spread down his throat and into his belly. The intense perfume of the liquor filled his nostrils and spread to his brain and his stomach. However, even as tired as he was, the Maia could control the effects of strong alcohol on a tired body.

"The lady Celebrian is alive and unharmed apart from a few minor injuries." He said finally looking around with a smile at the expectant faces surrounding him. "I have managed to ascertain a little about the man she is with, although he is very disciplined and has been successful in blocking many of his thoughts from me. I sense that he is the spawn of Thuringwethil.." Elrond gasped in horror and covered his eyes with the back of his hand but Eönwë carried on smoothly as if he had not noticed. "However... he has no love for the creature who sent him on this mission with the Lycans, in fact his only thought is to wash his hands of your lady as quickly as possible."

Glorfindel and the others had gone pale at the mention of the infamous vampire Maia who had served at Morgoth's throne.

"Then he could still kill her... drain her blood." Haldir said angrily. "That would rid himself of her and satisfy his hunger. Kill two birds with one stone!"

Elladan glared at the Galadhrim. "That's right Haldir, just terrify us even _more_ than we are already."

Their raised voices caught the attention of the bartender who stared intently at them all. Eönwë stared back at him calmly and it was the bartender's gaze that dropped first, but the Herald was aware that they were attracting un-needed attention.

"Peace." He said sternly and they all stopped talking immediately. "You will bring the authorities down on us if you continue this and my human authority as a senior officer in the British Army does not extend to France." He turned to Elrond whose face was whiter than white. "I sense nothing of this from him child. From the little I _do_ know, he seems to have more of an admiration for your wife than a desire to harm her and perhaps even a little fear. He fears and yet craves her light yet I do not sense hunger in him, in fact I sense distaste at the notion of taking blood from a live victim. It seems that Thuringwethil's spawn have become more sophisticated from millennia ago or some of them at least. He speaks rather of finding her kin...us...and goes to Marseilles for this very reason. To find a safe house from the Lycans from where they can find us."

Elrond looked up at the Herald with hope in his silver grey eyes. "What do we do?"

Eönwë smiled grimly. "We let him find us Master Elrond, and in order to do that we must _also_ go to Marseilles. However, the Lycans are also chasing them so we must hurry from here now to make sure we get there first. It is time to leave. It will be a bit of a squash, but there is room in my vehicle for all."

"All of our luggage is still in my vehicle." Thranduil said quietly. "We brought the weapons with us, but the rest is still there."

"I have arranged for the luggage to be collected and brought to Hampshire. Three of my fellow officers in HQ 4 Division are currently travelling back from Monte Carlo. They will pick the luggage up from the garage where the car is being mended and bring it back with them." Eönwë answered calmly.

He stood up and left the bar, followed by everyone else trotting meekly behind him as though he was a mother duck with a line of chicks. A moment later the bartender cleared the table where they had been sitting and found a five hundred Euro note at the bottom of the Herald's empty brandy snifter.

He went to the door just as the Herald drove past and stared after the car as Eönwë smiled that brilliant smile at him and lit up the entire street.

"Sacre bleu!" He muttered to himself in wonder. He had been visited by a veritable angel! And then he cursed himself for being so stupid.

Everyone with even a _little _bit of rationality knew fine well that angels did not exist, nor did they leave lots of money in a tip.

OoOoo

**Hotel Mecure Marseilles, the City of Marseilles, southern France later the same day**

Eönwë looked up from the leather bound notebook he was writing in as one of his charges stirred in their elven slumber. They had needed a lot of persuading to actually lie down and rest in the suite of rooms he had booked for them. Elrond lay on the bed in front of him and Elladan lay beside his Adar, both of them with eyes wide in the path of Elven sleep.

Thranduil was sprawled on the couch long legs splayed out in front of him, head back and eyes also open in the path of dreams. His uncomfortable head position meant that he occasionally made a strange gurgling noise in his throat which caused the touchy Haldir to wake up every so often. Eönwë had taken to watching the pale haired Galadhrim rise up from his chair opposite and poke the Wood Elf in his ribs every so often with great amusement. Especially when Thranduil's only response was to grunt and shift his head position temporarily.

Glorfindel slept neatly and tidily on one of the single beds in the other room, although Eönwë was very aware that the reborn Elf Lord was actually just under the surface of sleep. The rest of him was alert to any danger. Not that he had any need, Eönwë's power was more than sufficient to protect them, but old habits died hard it seemed.

Eönwë gazed out of the window. It was late afternoon but the sun piercing through the windows was still bright. It lay across Elladan's face and Eönwë saw the Peredhel frown and pass a hand over his face so he got up and adjusted the blind so that it no longer disturbed the child. For that was how Eönwë thought of them, as children, even despite their experiences and griefs in the long ages of Arda.

The Herald stood for a moment looking down on them both. Were they up to this challenge, these kindred of his? After everything they had all been through in this place had he been right to accept their offer of help or would they return more damaged, more marred than they had ever been? These were questions to which he had no real cohesive answer.

He had no fear for Thranduil. This was a one tough elf, honed through millennia of living among the marred Secondborn in this marred place and Eönwë had much respect for him. He had grown with the Secondborn and their technology and way of living until he was almost inseparable from them apart from his longevity and obvious physical differences which he managed to hide very well.

He didn't even fear for Glorfindel, Erestor or Feanor's sons. They all had great inner reserves of strength and so, surprisingly, did Celebrian. Eönwë suspected that this strength was entirely due to her father and _not_ her mother, which also came as a surprise. But then Celeborn had _also_ been born in Arda Marred and the deep inner core of his strength had been passed onto his only child, also born here. Unlike her mother who was entirely of the Eldar who had seen the light of the Two Trees and who had been damaged greatly by her long sojourn in Middle-earth.

Erestor was tough, like Thranduil. He had suffered much and borne much grief with his losses, yet he sprang from the ashes like a phoenix, like Glorfindel, touched by fire and grief and both toughened to a flexible steel by their experiences.

And Finrod... Eönwë chuckled to himself. Finrod was just...Finrod. He remembered well the mayhem he had caused in Lorien when reborn. The constant questioning, the propensity for getting into scrapes and dragging Glorfindel into those scrapes with him. As if Glorfindel _needed_ any help to get into trouble! Still, Finrod was with Jim and Alun Davies and if those two could not restrain Finrod between them Eönwë would eat his Oathkeeper's book _and_ pen and perhaps also eat his officer's issue Browning 9mm pistol as dessert.

He heard a rumble of laughter from Atto in his mind and echoed it. Finrod would be fine. If he had any trouble with the former King of Nargothrond it would be in trying to get him to go _back_ to Aman.

But Elrond and his eldest son... they were another matter entirely. Eonwe's mirth died and unease took its place. They were neither of the Eldar or Maia, nor were they Secondborn. The strengths from each race flowed through them and very often those strengths were at odds with each other making them vulnerable where they should have been strong and sometimes strong where being vulnerable would perhaps have served them better.

The Herald worried about them; less about the son than the father because Elladan was at least strengthened by the blood of the Eldar given to him by his mother. Yet separation from his twin, Elrohir, did not help. What they both needed was the strength of Celebrian, forged in pain and suffering and healed by the light of the Valar, to sustain them.

He sent out the silvery ribbons of his thought towards her once again.

ooOoo

**A warehouse near the containers in the New Port area of Marseilles Old Port, France**

In the dying light from the Mediterranean sun, three men metamorphosed as quietly as they could in a temporarily unused warehouse in the docks of the great city of Marseilles. Even though they had no real reason to fear anyone hearing them since the tourists had long forsaken the dock tours for the warmth of restaurants and bars, the terse orders and not so veiled threats of Lord Herumor still rang loudly in their ears.

Fallon had no fear at all that Herumor would not find them and make examples of them should they fail to find the silver haired woman, but Herumor was not here and all three Lycans could already feel the presence of something just as powerful as their boss in this teeming city. Fear cut across the testosterone stoked atmosphere in the warehouse. Fear of both failing Herumor _and_ incurring the ire of this other power.

They had finally pinned down the location of the vampire and the woman in a large house situated in the Third Arrondissement, in a street called Rue des Bons Enfants. Further investigation showed it to be the residence of a number of vampire kin, none of which were actually part of a coven. In fact the information that had come from Herumor's people was that they were a loose alliance of those who did not wish to be hampered by the Council of Coven's laws.

This could either be a very bad or very good thing. If their allegiance was to no one, then they would surely not wish to interfere when Fallon and his associates took the woman. However, the vampires might also wish to have the woman for themselves and fight back. They were not like the meek pleasure seeking coven members, these vampires were unknown quantities, just as Maksim was.

"We go for the woman." Fallon had growled when the other two had asked how they should play this. "She is more important than Maksim. We take her, kill whoever we find with her and if he is not with them then there will be time later on to find him and kill him. Herumor wants the woman above all else. We fail in this and we die."

"Why does he need her?" One of the others, a Lycan who in human form was called Frank had inquired. "What makes her so important to him?"

Fallon had shaken his head. "I do not know and I do not care. All I know is that if we don't capture her we are finished. He will find us wherever we run to."

And so it was that as darkness fell on the dockside area of Marseilles, three pale Lycan forms moved along in dark shadows taking care to avoid brightly lit streets filled with people. They loped silently among the overflowing trash cans at the back of restaurants in the dark cobbled alleyways and, above the myriad smells of human cuisine and the overpowering stench of rotting garbage, the exquisite and tantalizing scent of the silver haired woman so desired by Herumor filled their dilated and quivering nostrils.

And in a large, rambling old house in the Third Arrondissement of the city Maksim roughly shook Celebrian awake. She could hear movement and voices in the rest of the house and stared up at her vampire rescuer with fear in her eyes.

"They are coming."

He unceremoniously thrust her sword and a gun into her hands and pushed her in front of him out of the room.

ooOoo

Fana – fleshly form that the Maia take when incarnate

Atto – Father, in this case meaning Iluvator, Father of all.

Arrondissement - A name for the various districts in French cities and towns.


	19. This thing of darkness

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Guys thanks for the earlier reviews, they are appreciated as always. I have been away for a few days which explains the lack of posting, but hopefully this will make up for that lapse. Ellfine, thanks for the email, I will reply later on tonight.

One of the reviewers has remarked on the fact that I have borrowed some of the features from the Underworld series of movies. She is quite right of course and I make no apology for this. The lore behind the Underworld concept was, I felt, in keeping with the ancient notion of vampires and werewolves as written by Tolkien. I could have made this yet another battle between the Elves, the darkness and a bunch of orcs. I chose not to, because I wanted a different slant on what is a fairly well worn concept in fanfiction; that of Elves and mortals meet Big Bad Dark power and his brutish orc servants, good guys eventually win after much angst and anguish and bloodshed. That to me has been done to death now. I like the Underworld movies, I think they treat the subject very well and it is my pleasure to base my original characters on that concept. However that is where the similarity ends. Their worlds are similar simply because the Underworld characters interact in front of a background of modern Earth and my original characters along with Tolkien's original characters are also interacting in front of the background of modern Middle-earth. I do hope no one has a problem with that. I feel it gives the whole story a new scope. If that means it is Middle-earth meets Underworld, then so be it! It is not, however, in any shape or form a crossover with Underworld since I use none of the original characters from the movie.

"And thus I clothe my naked villany  
With odd old ends stol'n out of holy writ,  
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil."

_**- King Richard III (I, iii, 336-338)**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 19 – This thing of darkness**

**The Penthouse, Angband Enterprises, New York City**

The one thing that frustrated Herumor more than anything else was the fact that he did not _actually_ have the physical body of Draugluin in his possession, unlike Thuringwethil whose body, despite lore to the contrary, had _not _been used as a disguise for Luthien in those far off days in ancient times. Thuringwethil had actually survived the attack on her by the Hound of Valinor simply because she had shapeshifted into bat form leaving her cloak behind and it was _this _object that Luthien had wrapped around her as a disguise.

Herumor mused quietly to himself on the ability of both the Eldar and the Secondborn to build up rumours and myth around an event like that to the point where nobody truly knew what the truth was. What did these modern equivalents of the ancient Secondborn call it? Ah yes, Chinese Whispers or perhaps Urban Myths; tales handed down in both stories and songs through the mists of time that ended up the exact opposite of the actual events themselves.

He sneered maliciously at the fanciful notion. Fantasy building and story telling, _that_ was the true legacy of the Eldar, those despised favourites of the Valar, but it was _because _they were the favourites that gave him his greatest hold over those long forgotten races of vampire and werewolf sired so long ago. It was the stick he used to beat them over the head with; the fact that they _were _despised and kept out of paradise because they were viewed as evil spawn of an evil Master.

However, even though he did not have the actual body of Draugluin, he knew that the fallen Maia who had been his spirit was still here on Middle-earth, now called Earth. He could sense the Maia's presence as strongly as if the creature was leaning over his shoulder, yet it remained frustratingly out of reach. He had originally hoped that the Lycans themselves knew for sure where the Maia's spirit dwelt, that it was some shrine known to their elders, but that hope had soon been squashed when he realised that the spawn of Draugluin did not actually _have_ a central point around which they rallied, unlike the vampires who had organised themselves into covens surrounding the central point of their Lady, Thuringwethil.

It had been a source of great frustration to him to find that the Lycans were only 'organised', if one _could _use such a definitive term with respect to their nature, into disparate packs over a wide-ranging area of Middle-earth, none of whom had any allegiance to each other or to a central leader.

On the other hand this had also worked in his favour; that, and the fact that the Lycans hated the vampires with a passion borne of long and bitter conflict. He had been astounded at the ease with which he was able to persuade the Lycans to join with him by merely promising them the end of their bitter enemies.

Doing that had been much easier than he had anticipated, since he also rapidly discovered that the Lycans knew little of their original sire and cared less about that than the vampires cared about Thuringwethil. They had no historical archives or even stories passed down from Lycan to Lycan. Their existence was very basic, they hunted, they killed, they ate, they rutted and they moved easily among the Secondborn in their human form, for the most part working in the more mundane professions, organised crime or, on occasion, part of law enforcement.

He had quickly realised that he did not need to infer to them that the spirit of the Maia Draugluin was within his reach. In fact he had been spared having to lie to them at all that he was still searching for the Maia, now in a disincarnate form, because they had simply not cared a hoot about it. All they saw in Herumor was a very powerful dark creature and therefore a strong leader who could get them everything they craved. Lycans respected only strength and power, they saw an end to the vampire and the probable enslavement of the human race and it was more enough for them to throw their lot in with him.

All Herumor could do now was to exhibit his power over the Lycans and growing influence over the vampire covens, compacted now by his possession of Thuringwethil's mortal remains, and hope that the billowing darkness was enough to lure Draugluin out of his self-imposed exile. The creature had been a powerful ally of Sauron and Herumor suspected that the Lycans would ultimately need a strong leader, answerable to him to keep them in check.

In the meantime, the bumbling Lycan fools sent to capture those weak Eldar, only recently returned from Valinor to earth, had failed. It seemed that the Eldar were not as weak as he had supposed and that there was still great power in them. The actions of the vampire Maksim had not particularly surprised him at all. His survival had spoken much of his initiative and strength, especially more so since he had ultimately captured the female, wife of one of Melian's progeny. Part of Herumor admired the vampire's steel nerve, expertise and tenacity. He would have made an excellent Lieutenant and future leader of the vampires and perhaps still could, if he could be convinced to bring himself and his captive to Herumor.

However he would wait on that. For the moment, the Lycan Fallon and his two remaining associates had a plan to capture the female and Herumor had sent some reinforcements to assist them. He would wait and see what transpired from that. If Maksim survived and the Lycans died, then Herumor would endeavour to bring him over to his side and the woman with him and if the Lycans were successful...he mentally shrugged... well then he would ultimately have the woman anyway.

Whichever way one looked at it, it was a win-win situation for Herumor and Maksim's fate was cast either way. There was nowhere for him to go with the woman under his protection. He would have to either come to Herumor or surrender her to the creatures of light and that would mean his fate was certain. _They _would certainly not suffer a creature like Maksim to live.

OoOoo

**The house on Rue de Bons Enfants, the City of Marseilles, southern France **

It cannot be said for every battle or war, that help came from unexpected sources for the beleaguered. Not every story has a happy ending with the cavalry riding over the hill to the rescue.

Celebrian was exhausted. She had long since forgotten that the people beside her would normally have been mortal enemies. They repelled attack after attack on the house and the most disturbing thing about the whole thing was that nobody in the houses on either side or strolling along the street in the late evening air seemed to be aware that a pitched, bloody battle was going on all around them.

"It's Herumor." Maksim had hissed when she had breathlessly mentioned this fact to him in between the attacks. "Someone with some power is out there creating a glamour, some Magus under his command weaving spells of illusion around the area."

"A Magus?" Celebrian placed her sword, blade untouched at the moment by any further bloodshed, down beside her and methodically began to reload the magazine of her gun. "I know not what that is."

A tall vampire called Louis glanced over at her and answered for Maksim. "There are not many these days who practice the art of the Magi Lady and the word has a different meaning for mortal kind than it does for us according to their Bible. They used to be called Necromancers in the old days and were generally independent of the various factions, be they Lycan, Vampire or Mortal. They were often used by the great Kings of old to cast their spells and bring great fortune in battle or to provide the means for great alliances to be forged. Mostly they went underground or were wiped out during the Inquisition. The last one we were aware of actually written down in history belonged to an organisation called the Knights Templar. Their kind has long since disappeared from the mortal sphere of understanding, but we, the vampire and the Lycans know that some still exist. Nowadays they seem to masquerade under the title of Witch or Warlock or Shaman. Most mortals do not believe in what they term the supernatural, but it does exist."

"I know of Necromancers. Sauron, the fallen Maia and lieutenant of Morgoth Bauglir was such a one. My mother and father along with the Istar Mithrandir chased him out of the tower of Dol Guldur many ages ago." Celebrian replied absently, mulling this new information over in her mind. She was not prepared therefore for the sudden drawing back of the vampires around her and glanced up as the silence became laced with a mixture of fear and disgust.

Maksim shot a warning glance over at Louis who fell silent. "_We_ know those names Lady, but none speak of them out loud these days. There have always been rumours that Sauron's spirit lives on here on earth, unable to take form of any kind yet waiting for one to come who will aid him in this, and Morgoth; _that _name has not been spoken aloud by any for many millennia. None of us dare invoke it even now. The mortals have long since pushed both into the realms of myth and fantasy, but there is much here that is not dreamt of in their philosophy. Mortals are very good at turning a blind eye to such things and are keen to explain away what they can in the form of their science, but that which they cannot find a scientific explanation for, they pretend does not exist."

"Sauron is still here?" Celebrian's voice had dropped to a dread whisper.

Maksim nodded. "So it is believed, if you take any stock by the legends."

Celebrian shook her head in disbelief. "I know for certain that Morgoth is no longer here. He dwells still in the Void at the command of the Valar and is guarded by my husband's father, Earendil."

Maksim smiled grimly. "That does not mean that there aren't powers on this earth seeking his release. If there is a Magus here then he has turned away either from indifference to the fate of the planet or the light or has turned willingly to the darkness of Herumor and his powers are greatly augmented by him."

Celebrian slumped down, her shoulders hunched in defeat. She could see no way to win this battle if such powerful spells were being woven. Louis stared at her intently for a moment then touched Maksim on the shoulder and drew him to one side.

"This could go badly my friend." He said softly. "I can see no other way than for us to create a diversion for you both so that you can escape." He pressed a set of car keys into Maksim's hand. "Take the black Ferrari, it is fast. Get her away from here, if her kin are, as you say, coming for her here, then it should not be hard to seek them out. There is an old chateau not far from here that we use occasionally, it is secure and the caretaker is called Pierre Vallee, he is a human who is a trustworthy vampire servitor. Go there and hide until one of us can come to you if any of us are left of course." He grinned ferally with a touch of gallows humour.

Maksim's face fell. "I have brought this on you all. You have been good friends to me. I cannot leave you to this fate."

Louis looked over to where Celebrian was sitting with her head down. The long silver curtains of her hair hid her expression, but the pure light that emanated from her was plain to his sight. The corners of his mouth turned up in a small smile. "Something tells me that she is most important my friend. Her survival is much more important than ours. In any case, the decision has already been made amongst us and have no fear, we will make a good account of ourselves with these foul Lycans before they take us down." He threw back his head, laughed and bared his fangs. "I will taste much of their blood before they send me to the One who made all, in whose presence alone I will be judged. Now, do not hesitate, take her out through the cellar and into the garage at the back of the house. You will need to ride through them and I do not know how thick the spell barrier will be, but drive swiftly and do _not _stop for anything. If any of us survive and her kin come we will tell them where you are. When I invoke the name of the Lady, then is the time to make your escape"

The last Maksim saw of Louis was as he reached the cellar door. He gently pushed a reluctant Celebrian through in front of him as Louis gathered his clan around him and prepared to take the battle outside thereby drawing the attention of all the Lycans and whatever Magus was assisting them.

"Don't turn the light on." He said softly as he did so. "We don't know who is out there at the back and we don't want them to know what we are doing. I cannot believe that they do not have someone on watch for anyone escaping."

"I can see quite well in the dark." Celebrian replied with simple dignity as she picked here way down the worn stone cellar steps.

Even as she spoke a massive sound of crashing, wood splintering and the tinkling of shards of broken glass rent the air. At the same time they both heard Louis shout Thuringwethil's name above the snarling and howling.

Maksim hurried after her, closing and locking the cellar door and shutting out the awful sounds. He jammed a large heavy pitchfork against the door and leapt down the stairs. They found themselves in a large dark cellar which ran the whole length of the house. There were two cars parked there, one was an old blue Renault and the other a sleek black Ferrari. Maksim examined the key ring Louis had given him and found the remote that operated the metal double doors to the back alley of the house.

"Get in." He said to Celebrian indicating the low black sports car, but she did not move. "What's wrong?" He asked as she seemed frozen to the spot. Her gaze was intent on a dark corner beside the double doors and he followed her shocked gaze with his own.

There, standing in the darkness, was a tall form. Not vampire, Maksim would have known immediately, but the hairs rose on the back of his neck at the emanation of latent power that surrounded the figure in a smoky haze. He could not make out features, but the eyes, they were like burning black coals piercing through the gloom and shadows of the underground garage.

Celebrian let out a small sob of fear and he did not blame her._ Whatever_ this creature was, it was not vampire, nor was it Lycan. He drew his gun and pointed it at the figure.

"Who are you and what do you want?" His tone was a lot more confident than he actually felt.

A ghost of a sound escaped the figure which could have almost been construed as a laugh.

"It is not what _I _want, but what _you_ need." The voice was rough as though it had not been used in a very long time. He stepped out of the shadows to reveal a tall humanoid male dressed entirely in a dark concealing robe with a hood pulled over his head. He lifted up his hands and drew back the hood.

The reality of his appearance was not as horrifying as both Celebrian or Maksim were expecting. He stood tall, at least as tall as Eönwë or any of the Eldar. His features were fair, but seemed to shift in and out of phase and his hair was long and as black as night.

Celebrian drew in a sharp hiss of breath as the realisation hit her what he was.

"You are a Maia." She exclaimed before she could stop herself. Maksim glanced over at her, startled by the sudden declaration.

The figure smiled at her and raised an ironic eyebrow, nevertheless he bowed elegantly to her. "It has been a long time since anyone called me by such a complimentary name Lady, and it occurs to me that you are one of the Children spoken of by the Valar."

"We do not have time for this." Maksim broke in irascibly before Celebrian could reply. "In case neither of you had noticed there is a bloody battle going on upstairs between vampire and Lycan and the prize for the victor is currently down here with us." He pointed to Celebrian. "As much as I would _love_ to stay and chat, we need to get out of here tout de suite if not sooner."

The Maia chuckled. Maksim noticed that his features were no longer shifting and morphing, but were settling into a _very_ unsettling dark beauty.

"I believe I have a solution to your problem." He said with a hint of laughter in his voice. "Your friends are putting up a brave fight and I can sense that help is on its way to them, but you cannot wait for that. Even as we speak people are coming for you both, but I will provide the means for your escape if you will allow me."

"How?" Maksim asked brusquely.

The Maia smiled. "Like this."

Maksim and Celebrian watched in horrified fascination as the Maia began to morph in front of them. His human form bent down and shifted until his arms and legs had lengthened and changed. A sleek silver blue fur appeared and the ears flattened along with the lengthening of the features into a dark muzzle. Only the dark eyes remained the same.

They both shrank back in fear, for in front of them, plain as day was a werewolf of the most extraordinary kind. He was much bigger and more impressive than the lank grey creatures Maksim knew. It was apparent that he held much power within him although the power source seemed to be somewhat depleted.

"Unfortunately I cannot remain in this form for very long." The werewolf Maia sounded incongruously apologetic. "My powers are not what they were."

"Why...why..." Maksim stuttered.

"Why am I helping you?" The Maia inquired. "Let's just say that I don't like what has happened to my children and I don't like being hounded or manipulated by some Black Numenorean 'Johnny-come-lately' who is only greedy for power." They all turned around as a pounding sound indicated that someone was trying to batter the cellar door down. "Now get in that infernal mortal vehicle and go, while I can still maintain my shape. They _will _obey me and I will keep them at bay and I will also deal with that puling Magus, his chanting and weaving is giving me a terrible headache."

"Draugluin...you are Draugluin!" Celebrian whispered through dry lips.

The Maia waved a paw at her. "Yes, yes, very nice that at least _someone_ remembers me, now will you both get out of here already? I can't keep this form for very long at all and appearing incarnate only gives Herumor the heads up as to where I am. So get going."

They needed no further urging. Seconds later they were driving out of the underground cellar garage and as Maksim looked into the rear view mirror he saw the imposing form of Draugluin, ancient Sire of the Lycans, standing at the bottom of the stone steps waiting to welcome his children.

ooOoo

**Magi **– (Latin plural of magus, ancient Greek magos, English singular 'magian', 'mage', 'magus', 'magusian', 'magusaean') is a term, used since at least the 4th century BCE, to denote a follower of Zoroaster, or rather, a follower of what the Hellenistic world associated Zoroaster with, which was, in the main, ,the ability to read the stars and manipulate the fate that the stars foretold. The meaning prior to Hellenistic period is uncertain.

Pervasive throughout the Eastern Mediterranean and Western Asia until late antiquity and beyond, Greek mágos "magian" was influenced by (and eventually displaced) Greek goēs, the older word for a practitioner of magic, to include astrology, alchemy and other forms of esoteric knowledge. This association was in turn the product of the Hellenistic fascination for (Pseudo-)Zoroaster, who was perceived by the Greeks to be the "Chaldean" "founder" of the Magi and "inventor" of both astrology and magic.

Among the skeptical thinkers of the period, the term 'magian' acquired a negative connotation and was associated with tricksters and conjurers. This pejorative meaning survives in the words "magic" and "magician".

In English, the term "magi" is most commonly used in reference to the Gospel of Matthew's "wise men from the East", or "three wise men" The plural "magi" entered the English language around 1200, in reference to the Biblical magi of Matthew 2:1. The singular appears considerably later, in the late 14th century, when it was borrowed from Old French in the meaning magician together with magic.

I have decided for the purposes of this tale that the word has an entirely different meaning for the vampires and Lycans and leans more towards the practitioner of magic side than the more religious connotations of the Three Wise Men.

**Knights Templar** – The Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon (Latin: _Pauperes commilitones Christi Templique Solomonici_), commonly known as the Knights Templar or the Order of the Temple. (French) _Ordre du Temple_ or _Templiers_), were among the most famous of the Western Christian Military Order. The organization existed for approximately two centuries in the Middle Ages.

Officially endorsed by the Roman Catholic church around 1129, the Order became a favored charity throughout Christendom, and grew rapidly in membership and power. Templar knights, in their distinctive white mantles with a red cross were among the most skilled fighting units of the Crusades. Non-combatant members of the Order managed a large economic infrastructure throughout Christendom, innovating financial techniques that were an early form of banking and building many fortifications across Europe and the Holy Land.

The Templars' existence was tied closely to the Crusades; when the Holy Land was lost, support for the Order faded. Rumors about the Templars' secret initiation ceremony created mistrust, and King Philip IV of France, deeply in debt to the Order, took advantage of the situation. In 1307, many of the Order's members in France were arrested, tortured into giving false confessions and then burned at the stake. Under pressure from King Philip, Pope Clement V disbanded the Order in 1312. The abrupt disappearance of a major part of the European infrastructure gave rise to speculation and legends, which have kept the "Templar" name alive into the modern day.


	20. Meanwhile, back at the ranch

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **I thought quite long and hard about the mechanics of creating a werewolf or even making turning a Maia into a wolf. Which is why, of course, this chapter has been longer in posting. The Maiar could make themselves anything they pleased of course and if taking wolf form was convenient I've no doubt they would have done that. However, I needed a different angle and have used the idea that Morgoth perverted Elves and turned them into orcs, so why not pervert Elves or Men and turn them into a form of humanoid wolf? Whatever Tolkien had Morgoth do, it was obvious that some form of 'magic' or dark power was in use to create perversions of an existing race and in my story this is what he uses to create Draugluin the Werewolf and what Sauron also uses to create Carcharoth (large wolf who bit off Beren's hand which was holding the Silmaril at the time!) who was one of Draugluin's progeny.

"I don't know if they taught you this in the land of fairies and puppy dog tails where you obviously, if not grew up, then at least spent most of your summers, but you're in the real world now, mmm'kay?"

_**- Dr Perry Cox, Scrubs**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 20 – Meanwhile, back at the ranch...**

**The library of Elrond, New Imladris, Valinor circa present day**

Celeborn sighed deeply for the millionth time and resumed his restless pacing around the library of New Imladris. His wife tried to concentrate on the book of ancient lore from Middle-earth as best she could, but the constant treading even of her husband's light footsteps was having an effect similar to the Chinese water torture.

Reading Elrond's painstaking attempts to set down events that happened a whole Age before he was born was not easy. Galadriel had never thought of her son in law as a fanciful person, but it was clear that where things got hazy, he was prone to flying off into wild speculation which did nothing to help her understand what was fact and what was fancy. She huffed a sigh of exasperation, he really was as ponderous in his flights of speculation as he was when he was trying to explain such things vocally.

Finally after failing to get to grips with one particularly convoluted and very speculative passage about the nature of Draugluin and his progeny, she threw up her hands in annoyance.

"For the love of the Valar Celeborn, could you _please_ stop wearing a groove in the floorboards and sit down. This is hard enough to concentrate on without you constantly sighing and pacing."

Celeborn glowered at her. "I do not know how you can sit there so calmly, reading while our daughter is in the hands of some blood sucking monster of Sauron's."

He flung himself down on a chair and stared moodily out of the window.

"Morgoth dear...not Sauron. It was _Morgot_h who was responsible for Thuringwethil." Galadriel said absently.

"What does it matter?" Celeborn exclaimed impatiently. "Same bloody difference."

He started to rise out of the chair and resume his pacing, but then sank back down having thought better of it. Despite diminishing, going to the west and remaining Galadriel, his wife was still a formidable woman when she had the bit between her teeth and he had no wish to start a row with her.

Meanwhile, her attention had been caught by a part of Elrond's diatribe that mentioned that Sauron had infused the body of one of the Eldar with the essence of a wolf.

_How in the world? _

She felt baffled and out of her depth. In modern scientific terms, had there been any such terms for cross breeding an elf with a wolf in modern science, it would have told a scientist that Sauron was trying to cross breed humanoids with other species in order to produce a hybrid. To most civilised species this was an unthinkable act, an abomination; an obscenity that attempted to pervert the true pure nature of either species.

She leaned forward in growing alarm and wondered if Elrond had _truly_ understood what he had written. It seemed that while the _physiological_ part of the cross breeding had worked, although the possible practical connotations attached to that fact made her shudder with disgust, the one element that had made Draugluin special was the fact that Sauron had infused the spirit, in other words the disincarnate essence, of a fellow Maia with the physiological body of the hybrid. Somehow this had caused the result to be a Maia who could disincarnate and shapeshift from wolven into human form at will.

However, the drawback to it was the fact that the Maia was then bound to the fleshly form. It wasn't like the fana that the Maia wove around themselves so as to appear to the children in an acceptable physical fashion. This form, the form that Draugluin was forced into, was not of his making, it was bound to the earth itself.

She sat back and expelled the breath she had been holding while also trying to take all the information in and rationalise it. What horrors and torture must these victims of his experiments have gone through? What dreadful acts had they been forced to endure? This did not bear thinking about, for that way lay utter insanity and baseness. It made her feel dirty and sick to her very soul and her face reflected her feelings quite clearly.

"_What?_" Celeborn leaned forward and watched her intently. "What did you find?"

"Sauron not only carried _on_ with Morgoth's experiments changing elves into orcs after his master was imprisoned." She said softly. "He also did experiments in crossbreeding animals with elves and mortals _and _with the Maiar who went with Morgoth and it seems that not _all_ went willingly. Draugluin was possibly not a willing volunteer for those experiments. Elrond infers here that the original Draugluin was actually a Maia of Orome whose original task way back before Cuivenen had been to roam Middle-earth and report changes back to his Lord. We _need_ to speak to Olorin. He would know more about Draugluin as he was before Melkor charged off to do his hideous acts or at the very least could point us in the direction of a Maia who had been his contemporary here in Valinor."

Celeborn went silent pondered the statements for a moment. "He must have turned willing at some point though." He pointed out. "Otherwise why continue serving someone who had done such a terrible thing to you?"

Galadriel stared at Celeborn without really seeing him. Instead a vision flashed in front of her eyes of her brother and his companions languishing in the dungeons awaiting a terrible death. She closed her eyes for a moment and blinked away tears.

"Perhaps he thought it was the only way to survive?" She said softly, almost to herself. "Perhaps he felt the alternative was too much to go through after everything else? He was bound to the fleshly form, a cross between human or elf and wolf, created by Sauron for him. He couldn't escape it. I think he was _trapped_ inside that form and then forced to do unspeakable things."

It was Celeborn's turn to shudder. "That is a nasty thought beloved."

She offered him a small but grim smile. "Truly nasty, but there _is_ a positive side to this."

"Positive?" Celeborn arched a silver eyebrow at her. "What in the name of Eru can you find positive in that?"

She sat back in the chair with a look of smug satisfaction on her face. "What it means, dear husband, is that when the physical body of Draugluin was killed, the fea of the Maia was free to leave. Maiar cannot die, even if their physical body is damaged beyond repair. His spirit is still there on Middle-earth, possibly awaiting a chance for revenge or perhaps he is too afraid to return for judgment. If this is the case then he is more likely to help us than this Herumor for that would speak in his favour if he returns to Valinor. He will consider Herumor to be nothing but an upstart serving a more powerful Master!"

"Sauron? But Sauron is dead. He was destroyed when the Perian Frodo threw his ring into Orodruin." He glances suspiciously at his wife. "He _is _dead.... right? _Please_ tell me he is dead." He voice had taken on a slightly pleading tone.

Galadriel shut the book and rested her slim hands on it. Nenya, the Ring of Adamant, winked merrily at her as a shaft of pale sunlight filtering in through the window caught it. She turned her hand over and stared at the sparkling stone as if mesmerised. The ring no longer had power, but the stone was unblemished and beautiful still after all these yeni.

"All I am sure of is that the destruction of the One Ring greatly reduced his powers and destroyed his ability to take physical form completely, effectively taking away his ability to carry on with his plans to enslave all of Middle-earth. His spirit may well still be there on Middle-earth seeking a way back to power. Mayhap this new darkness is a means to that end. However, if _his_ spirit has remained, then it seems likely that so has Draugluin's _and_ that of Thuringwethil, especially if we take the view that she was created in much the same manner by Morgoth."

Celeborn groaned and buried his head in his hands. "Are we _never_ to be free of this?"

"Well as to that..." His wife replied pertly. "...I think we may well have the Valar and their actions, or lack thereof, to blame."

"Well _there's_ a surprise." Celeborn observed, tone heavy with sarcasm.

Their words were heard by Olorin who had arrived to see how the research was going and was about to knock on the library door. Instead he hesitated and acknowledged the urgent summons of Lord Manwe in mind speak. A split second later he had disincarnated right in front of one of the ellyth from Elrond's household who let out a small shriek and dropped the pile of clean linen she was carrying to the bed chambers all over the passage floor.

"He might be a Maia." She muttered darkly to herself as she gathered up the linen scattered across the floor. "But it's just not normal, all this disappearing and appearing without any kind of warning. It's just _not_. A person needs a warning, so they do."

She hurried away clutching the rumpled pile of linen in her arms before anything else disturbing could happen.

ooOoo

**The house on Rue de Bons Enfants, the City of Marseilles, southern France **

The cacophony of battle was deafening, it came full belt at Louis in surround sound and above it all the head crushing pressure of powerful magicks being weaved was turning what was left of his brain into jelly.

Vampires were not normally creatures of mass battle tactics, their very nature was one of lone operations done in stealth. Their victims were the unsuspecting, the momentarily vulnerable, and once snared in the vampire's seductive net, they often didn't know their true danger until they saw the feral expression and sharp fangs bearing down on them. By then it was usually far too late to fight.

Only over centuries as modern man came into their own and, on the surface at least, grew less superstitious, did the vampire finally organise themselves into actual covens against the more persistent enemy of the Lycans. Even then they did not all become the soldiers of the covens, only some did; those who were most suited to the role, like Maksim. The rest did little other than feed and enjoy the privileges only an extremely lengthy sojourn on earth could give them, like the wealth amassed over the centuries and an exceptional and extensive knowledge of history down through those centuries.

Humankind knew nothing of the supernatural battles constantly being waged against the backdrop of their world. Ironically it was only the dregs of human society who suspected that there was more beneath the thin veneer of human civilisation than what was seen _on_ the surface of the world; and only then because _they_ were the well of fodder for both new recruits and prey for both sides. The homeless, the disadvantaged and the vulnerable could just disappear from the streets without any great commotion from relatives or the authorities, because nobody actually cared about them to start with.

Louis and his friends had long abandoned that life for a simpler existence. Like Maksim, none of them fed from live victims any more. They had an arrangement with one of the blood banks and used that as a means of sustenance. Vampires could also eat and drink like any other and they did enjoy fine wines and good food, but blood was the essence of their being and necessary for them to function properly.

It had been a long time indeed since any of them had needed to make an account of themselves in anything like this battle and now Louis was seeing his friends fall around him and it hurt like the very devil.

Even as he watched the battle rage all around him, figures moving in slow motion, spiraling downwards with blood arcing from sliced veins and arteries, he felt as though he was outside himself watching it all. Therefore when reality came crashing down on him in the form of one of the Lycans it was a shock for him to realise he was really there; this was really happening.

He smelt the sharp animal stench of the Lycan, his hands pushed upwards against the matted furred chest and the creature's hot foetid breath blasted straight into his face forcing him to turn his head to one side. He knew he was done for and waited for the creature to tear his throat out. Mentally he consigned whatever was left of his spirit to whatever deity was out there and squeezed his eyes shut. His strength was failing him.

The expected last sound of a crunch of powerful jaws did not come. Instead the weight left his body. His eyes were still tightly shut, so he felt rather than saw someone bend over him and take him by the arm. Whoever it was, was very strong and Louis could see a nimbus of light reflected through his eyelids.

"Are you able to stand up?"

He slowly opened his eyes and then immediately clothed them again. His rescuer shone with a light that pained his eyes, but seemed to realise it because moments later the voice came again.

"Open your eyes, I have dulled my light, it will not hurt you now."

Louis reluctantly squinted at the figure in front of him. The eyes were kind, kinder than he expected and filled with compassion which took him by surprise. He took the hand offered to him and was aware of a sharp burning sensation which told him that the tall fair being in front of him was pure in soul and thought. He looked around him and spotted at least two piles of debris which meant that two of his companions would not be spending any more nights at the commune they had created here in Marseilles.

The tall fair being's eyes followed his. "I am afraid we were too late to save all of your friends, but rest assured that they are at peace now."

Louis shook his head. "What peace is there for the likes of us? We have tried to remain aloof from the others and their way of living, but we were not always so peaceable. It has been a long, hard and bloody road to where we are now. Most of us have done things..." His voice trailed off and he slumped down on the steps leading up to the house. "I am amazed that the street looks no different to the way it did before. All that is left to show anyone even died here is a couple of piles of debris."

The being's bright eyes regarded him curiously. "Their bodies had long outlived their souls Louis, they did not die here, they died long ago, only an essence of part of their whole personality lived on in the people you knew after their deaths just as it does in you and these others now, you _all_ died a long time ago. It was not meant to be like that. They have now gone to be reunited with their souls still residing in the Halls of Waiting. Once they are, then they can move beyond the Circles of the World as Iluvator intended them to do. Do not be sad for them."

"Be sad for myself you mean?" Louis couldn't keep the bitterness out his voice and he was too weary to ask how it was that this beautiful being knew his name. "Why do you not dispatch me now then? Get it over with."

Eönwë smiled sympathetically at him. "It is not in my remit to do that. It is not my place to sit in judgment on you. Had none of you survived tonight you would have joined them in the Halls, but you _did_ survive and I believe that it is because Iluvator still has a task for you all."

One of the vampires, a buxom red haired woman called Lydia, approached them. She nodded brusquely at Eönwë who inclined his head politely to her.

"I see you are still in one piece Louis." Her tone was dry and Louis could see that her clothes were covered in gouts and splashes of blood. "Perhaps you should introduce us to our saviours." She nodded at Eönwë and a small group of tall, similarly fair men who were watching the interchange between Eönwë and Louis

Louis nodded. "Yes, I am...okay, but I'm afraid I cannot perform introductions since I have no idea who our saviours are." He looked expectantly at Eönwë who smiled at them both.

"I am Eönwë, a Maia in the service of Lord Manwe Sulimo, Lord of the Breath of Arda, Elder King in Valinor in the West." The Herald said politely, bowing as though they were standing in some King's fair courtyard at a reception instead of a battlefield.

The woman gave a feral grin. "Well... that's _who _you are, but not _what _you are. Don't think me ungrateful for the help, but it's obvious that you and your friends do not belong here."

"As to that, I think that explanations are better given in a less public place. It seems that the Magus has been dealt with and the glamours he placed around this place are wearing off." Eönwë gestured widely to the street where people were beginning to cast curious and, in some cases, mildly hostile glances towards the group of vampires and elves milling around outside the house. "I think we should adjourn into the house. We will explain our presence and hopefully you can help us with what _we_ need."

Lydia placed her hands on her hips and glared at a middle aged Frenchwoman who had come to the door of her house and was yelling in rapid French at them.

"You're right. Let's get inside, but I do have one question you can answer before we do."

Eönwë flashed her that beautiful smile of his and she felt her knees go weak. "Only one? Ask your question Lady."

"What happened to the other Lycans? One minute they were there trying to tear us to pieces, the next they disappeared into the house." She asked bluntly. "And it is a _long _time since anyone thought I was a lady. My name is Lydia."

The Herald regarded her with those bright eyes of his and she found she could hardly bear the intensity of his gaze, then he laughed. "Well met Lady Lydia." His eyes twinkled at her and she let out a husky, reluctant laugh in reply. "I believe that the Lycans were summoned by someone of greater power than them and they were unable to resist the summons."

His words told her very little, but definitely piqued both hers and Louis' curiosity. The Herald turned to enter the house and they followed him in meekly. The other vampires followed them and Thranduil and the other elves brought up the rear.

ooOoo

"How do you know that they got away?" Lydia bristled up to Eönwë, hands on hips and her face thrust towards him pugnaciously. "We saw the Lycans go into the house, if this Draugluin was there, he would have taken them and left to report to his master and the other Lycans obviously followed him."

There was a murmur of agreement from the other vampires.

"Marcus and the others died for nothing and now Maksim is lost to us." A fair haired vampire who looked more like a teenager than a being more than a couple of centuries old muttered mutinously.

The Herald regarded him steadily, but the compassionate expression in his eyes had a touch of steel behind it and when the vampire realised it he quailed. These were no terrified mortals, these were creatures of light and their leader looked as though he had stepped straight from the angelic host themselves. He subsided and stared down at his feet. Eonwe's bright steady gaze was too much for him to stand.

"I agree." Eönwë said softly, but in a tone that made them _all_ sit up and listen. "They _did _die for nothing. They died all those years ago for nothing and have lived an empty life since. Your efforts to live peaceably with humankind in recent years do you all great credit and your sacrifices have been noted. When you eventually face the One who created all, this will be in your favour. Your friends did not _die _tonight, what they gained tonight was peace and the ability to move beyond the Circles of the World and join their loved ones. They have lost nothing this night, but they _have_ gained much."

"That's as maybe." Lydia assented. "But I still think that Maksim and the Elf Lady are on their way to this Herumor or whatever he calls himself despite our efforts and sacrifices. The Lycans have thrown their lot in with him and since Draugluin is their leader and he has come back, then he's hardly going to be hanging around in our cellar waiting to have a chat to anyone about it all is he?"

The Elves said nothing; although they could not usually sense a disincarnate Maia's presence, they _could_ sense the trail of power within the house that spoke of another Maia _besides_ Eönwë clothed in flesh.

However Eönwë merely laughed softly. He beckoned them all into the passageway that led to the cellar and stood in front of the door with his hand on the handle. They all gathered around him, elves and vampires, all waiting expectantly.

"Well...perhaps we should take a look shall we?" He said with a ghost of a smile and opened the door.

"I'll say one thing for you Eönwë, my brother, you have not lost your sense of the dramatic have you?"

A tall cloaked figure waited near the top of the cellar steps. No longer in wolven form, he flung back the hood to reveal the dark beauty he had earlier revealed to Maksim and Celebrian.

"The birds have flown I'm afraid." He continued apologetically. "There's nobody here but us chickens...and...oh, a couple of my children." He gestured behind him where two of the Lycans, now in human form, stood behind him waiting silently. "No need to worry about them _or_ the others, I have sent them on. I just waited to speak with you."

Elrond stepped forward, anger warred with concern on his face. "Where have they gone? What have you done with my wife?"

Draugluin turned to him. "Ah yes, the worried husband. Have no fear Master Elrond, your wife is well, I have done nothing with them and as to where they have gone, you should ask the vampire called Louis, he knows much better than I where he sent them."

"Come _with_ us." Eönwë said quietly.

Draugluin smiled and shook his head sadly. "You _know_ I cannot my brother. To go with you now is to be taken back to Valinor to stand judgment from the Valar. I can be of no help to anyone over there, but I can be of help here. For better or for worse, the Lycans are my children and they are being misled. I owe it to them to make this better and the only way I can do that is to fight Herumor in my own way. In doing that, I can assist you in _your _fight."

"We are both fighting the same battle my friend." Eönwë kept his tone even, but the Elves could hear the emotion roiling under the surface.

"Indeed we are." Draugluin smiled at them. "But I can be of much more use if I do some damage control among the Lycans, however, I make an oath to you now, Oathkeeper of Eru Iluvator, that once Herumor and his foul master are defeated I will _willingly_ return with you for judgment."

Everyone started back in astonishment as Eönwë grinned widely and suddenly produced a leather bound book and quill from mid-air. He calmly began to write even as Draugluin spoke his oath. Finally he finished his entry with a flourish, closed the book and it and the pen disappeared back into thin air. The Elves watched in amazement for they had never seen the Herald writing an oath before and the vampires muttered among themselves at the strange sight.

"I will hold you to that oath Draugluin." He said firmly.

"I know you will, but if you'll excuse me, I really must join the others before they wander off and bond themselves to Herumor again. If brains were dynamite _most_ of them wouldn't have enough to blow their noses and their attention span is really rather small."

He flashed them a ghost of a smile and was gone with the two Lycans before anyone could say anything else.

ooOoo


	21. Rearranging the Genes

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Okay, many many apologies for the long delay since I last posted. Many difficult real life problems had to be dealt with and although my health is improving it didn't help me sort stuff out. Still now the road ahead is clear and here I am with another chapter. I hope you all enjoy it. Now I know that some of you will be champing at the bit as to what is happening with Celebrian and her vampire, but there are other parts of the story to bring together as well and other characters who need attention!

**E. Lee DeGolyer** – a _very _valid point, thank you for pointing that out. As a nearly 59 year old myself I do know that those who did serve in Vietnam are my age or older. In fact the character of Hal Kenwood is partially based on a Vietnam veteran I got to know through service in the first Gulf War in 1991, he was a couple or three years older than me and ultimately was divorced by his wife because his PTSD was quite bad. He decided to throw caution to the wind and go and live by himself in Alaska after that happened. There were no children from the marriage. I do hear from him very occasionally when he decides to find an internet connection so he can tell everyone who is still alive that _he's_ still alive and kicking.

Of course you have rumbled me with regard to Hal to some extent, he _is _linked to Elrond, but not nearly as directly as a distant ancestor, the distant ancestor is still to be unmasked and Hal will play a large part in that unmasking. I should also say that I have absolutely no problem whatsoever with comments about the story. They are all grist to my mill and I take everything on board as constructive criticism, so please,_ never_ worry about saying what is on your mind, I never react to such criticism with hostility.

For those who are curious with regard to Hal's link with Chief Knowles, I should tell you that Chief himself is not exactly a spring chicken. The British Army used to have something called the Long Service List and people who did not want to leave the military at 40 could actually extend their service until the age of 55 by applying to go on the list. Commissioned Officers serve until that age anyway. I think the LSL is not in operation now, but for the purposes of the story Chief is a Long Service List soldier at the top end of the age scale. He served with Hal who I envisage as around my age or perhaps a year or so older as part of an exchange system with the US Army which also used to exist ten years ago or so. I believe it still does exist in some form or another. I do hope though that readers of the story use suspension of disbelief in some areas, but I am _always_ delighted when someone points something out that might bother them!

Now...on to the next part of the story!

"Whenever you look at a piece of work and you think the fellow was crazy, then you want to pay some attention to that. _One _of you is likely to be, and you had better find out which one it is. It makes an awful lot of difference. "

___**Charles Franklin Kettering (1876-1958) U. S. engineer and inventor**____**. **_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 21 – Rearranging the Genes**

**Vargulfa Scientific Research Group, just outside Portland, Maine USA**

The man was alone in the antiseptic, white and pristine laboratory surrounded by the masses of sterile, shining paraphernalia associated with such a place. He bent over his computer screen and peered closely at the lines of data unfolding on it, most of which would look like utter gobbledygook to any lay person. Occasionally he would stop and scribble down notes on a thick yellow notepad.

The lab coat that hung over the back of his chair bore a plastic name tag with the words

_**Dr Fryderyk Gustaw, PhD, RNAi**_

The letters _RNAi_ were not part of the qualifications after his name, although most people would have certainly thought they were. RNAi actually stands for RNA interference which is a method for studying gene function which allows the "knock-out" of genes in many organisms, including human cell lines. It is commonly used throughout various phases of pharmaceutical and drug discovery research, as well as in academic and industrial research for target identification and validation.

It wasn't unusual for him to be there long after the normal workday had ended and most of his colleagues had gone home to wherever home was. In fact he never bothered to ask them anything about themselves and for all he knew they could have either been solid family men and women or budding serial killers. It also wasn't that he _couldn't _have interacted socially with them, after all he was as social as the next guy, it was simply that he did not wish to and, in fact, had no need to.

Therefore they came and they went and it seemed to them that he must always be there night and day since he was at his bench and equipment when they got to work and was still sitting there, hunched over some part of his experiments, when they left.

"He's a loser." One of the young female scientists on the staff had thrown out with a toss of her blonde ponytail one day while they were sitting in the canteen having lunch. "A no-lifer."

Her comments had been interrupted by a gentle remonstration from one of her Asian colleagues, a clever man from Lahore in India who they knew simply as Ram. "No, no Lindy." His soft vaguely sing-song voice protested. "You must not say such things. We do not know what his circumstances are since he rarely speaks of his personal life. As far as we know he could have had a personal disaster, death of wife or children or some such sadness."

The blonde had stared at her colleague with a slightly malicious smile tugging at the corners of her perfect mouth. "You know _your_ trouble don't you Ram?"

Ram had smiled that beaming smile of his at her, revealing a set of admirably strong white teeth. "No indeed, but I am _very_ sure you are about to tell me."

The others at the canteen table had laughed and Lindy had laughed with them, thereby defusing the momentarily tense atmosphere somewhat and whatever else she had been about to say died on her lips as the subject of their discussion sidled in through the canteen doors and headed for the self service food counter.

"He's just weird." Lindy said eventually, sotto voce, once he had carried his tray to the far end of the canteen and was out of earshot. "Sorry, but that's how I feel. He gives me the creeps." She shuddered dramatically, picked her empty tray up and slung it in the large rack. "Well I'm off, got a huge presentation to do for the big boss Honcho. Apparently he's come all the way from New York, New York just to inspect my project. Who knows? Maybe I am heading for the big time."

And amidst cries of 'good luck' and 'knock 'em dead Lindy' she sashayed out of the canteen, ponytail swinging from side to side in the jaunty fashion they had come to think of as peculiarly hers.

Fryderyk's eyes, so pale a grey as to be almost colourless, followed her departure and a faint, not quite pleasant, smile hovered about his lips.

It was the last time any of them ever saw Lindy Collier again, and although it was put out by the company that Dr Lindy Collier PhD, expert in genetic science, had moved on to pastures new and better things, there was a strange feeling among them all that she had perhaps spoken out loud once too often.

People she had been friends with and had socialised with her had gradually become aware that all trace of her existence in Portland, Maine, including her smart little apartment, was being wiped completely and very efficiently to the point that even her neighbours denied that she had _ever _lived in the apartment block and just looked genuinely puzzled when asked about her. None of them had been aware of any family, so without anyone obvious to ask, Lindy Collier slowly slipped into the murky shadows of memory and eventually was rarely referred to at all.

However, as a result of her disappearance, apparently into thin air, Ram and the others had become _very _circumspect about what they said and who they talked about on staff. They came to work, did their job and counted themselves very fortunate if they got out of the building and back home in one piece. If they did speak at all it was in the privacy of their homes and even then they were wary; the feeling of being 'overlooked' was always with them.

So it was that Fryderyk got the peace he wanted to pursue his pet theories and the work set to him by the Research Group. He knew his work in genetic engineering was important and had already borne fruit, although certain aspects of the work needed refining and this was what held his attention night after night and day after day. He did have a small apartment, but mostly when he wanted to sleep he used a sleeping bag in the corner of the laboratory and showered in the employee showers, also eating breakfast in the canteen.

The rumours were, therefore, not so far from the truth. Dr Gustaw literally lived to work and tonight...tonight he was witnessing an unprecedented triumph in that work. His hand shook as he lifted up the telephone receiver and began to dial a number. Moments later a polite but cool male voice answered on the other end of the line.

"Good evening, you have reached the head office of Angband Enterprises, how may I assist you?"

ooOoo

**The office of W01 (SSM) Knowles, Staff Assistant, HQ 4 Division, Aldershot Garrison, England**

The young soldier tentatively knocked on the closed office door and stood waiting patiently for an answer...any kind of answer, only he waited in vain because all was silent within the room.

He hesitated before turning to walk back to the small guardhouse which stood at the end of a small private road leading to the HQ building and as he did so a laconic voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Were you wanting me Corporal?" Chief Knowles stepped out of the doorway of the small office opposite his own where the photocopier was kept. He had an enormous sheaf of papers in his arms and was balancing a mug of coffee at the same time, the contents of which were slopping haphazardly over the tiled floor.

The Corporal reached out and took the mug. "Yes sir I was looking for you, there's a visitor in the guardhouse for you."

Knowles frowned slightly and gestured with his head for the young man to open the office door. "Thank you. What kind of visitor?" He asked cautiously. With Elves, Maiar and Werewolves flying around, not to mention the odd vampire, one could never be to careful about one's visitors.

The young soldier blinked. "What kind? Um...well, the usual kind sir, it's a male sir, a gentleman from America judging by his accent." He carefully placed the mug of coffee on the mat next to the computer and stepped back.

Chief dumped the papers on a chair and sat down. "American eh? Does this American visitor have a name?"

The Corporal coloured to the roots of his hair with mortification and fumbled in his pocket. He eventually produced a crumpled piece of paper. "Sorry sir. He says his name is Kenwood sir, Mr Hal Kenwood and he says you are old friends." He was more than a little stunned when Chief bounced back up from his seat.

"Hal Kenwood? Hal Kenwood is here? Dear god there's a name from the past to conjure with. Don't just stand there Corporal, escort him in."

The by now very confused Corporal backed away to the door, totally forgot who he was talking to and saluted sloppily. "Yes sir, right away sir."

As he ran out of the main door of the building he was aware that Chief had followed him out and was standing on the steps leading up to the main door.

"For god's sake Corporal, you've been in the bloody army long enough to know that you don't salute non-commissioned officers. Get a grip man!" He bellowed after the hapless young soldier.

"Sorry sir." The Corporal managed to throw back at Chief breathlessly.

Knowles shook his head in mock despair and headed back up the steps only to meet Brigadier Gary Matthews aka Eönwë on his way out. Eönwë had only just returned to England leaving Thranduil and the others in France to pursue Celebrian and the vampire. Unfortunately the Herald had to reluctantly return to duty as ordered by the General, although he knew they were probably safe from the werewolves for the time being seeing as how Draugluin had now made such a dramatic entry onto the scene and was probably engaged in keeping his errant progeny in check. Certainly over a period of two days after the battle in Marseilles and Celebrian and Maksim's flight from the vampire house, neither hide nor hair had been seen of any werewolves and therefore the Herald had left Thranduil and the others to track Celebrian and Maksim down at their place of refuge.

"Was that you attempting to deafen everyone within range of your very impressive vocal chords?" The Herald raised an eyebrow at Chief who grinned at him unabashed.

"My apologies for disturbing your delicate shell-likes sir. Bloody kids they bring in these days, in the old days we wouldn't have forgotten such a basic thing and if we did they'd have made us scrub the bathroom floor with a toothbrush for a week." He noticed that Eönwë had donned his peaked cap and was wearing his smart number two dress. "Well don't _we_ look all spiffy. Off to something nice?"

Eönwë winced. "I am not sure about your definition of nice. I'm late picking Kim up and we are going with the General and his lady wife to an afternoon reception at the local council offices in the company of the Mayor and his wife. Not my idea of fun, poncing about being pleasant to a bunch of people who are so far up their own backsides they haven't seen daylight for years." He growled in a most un-Maia way.

It was the Chief's turn to raise an eyebrow. "My, my sir, now that was _most_ Gary Matthews-like of you. It almost took me straight back to the old days before the War of Wrath."

Eönwë broke down into a fit of the giggles. "Yes it did didn't it? I am rapidly beginning to understand why Gary...I...used to talk like that. Sometimes it just pops out. Kim thinks it's funny."

Chief chuckled along with him and then reached up. "If you'll allow me sir..." He removed Eonwe's cap, breathed on the already mirror-like peak and rubbed at it with the sleeve of his sweater. Once he was satisfied he placed the cap very carefully on the Herald's head and stood back to admire his handiwork. "There...can't have our Chief of Staff looking like a mess with a blotch on the peak of his cap, can we?"

Eönwë opened his mouth to retort that he hadn't seen a blotch when he put it on, but was interrupted by the young Corporal who appeared at the bottom of the steps with Chief's visitor, a tall, lean man with shaggy dark hair threaded through with silver and twinkling grey eyes in a face sunburned and weatherbeaten. He could have been any age from mid-fifties and above. A frisson of memory swept through the Herald's mind. There was something very familiar about the man. He smiled and nodded and the man returned his greeting with a nod of his own.

The Corporal stopped dead when he saw the Brigadier and froze for a split second. He half lifted his hand in a salute and then seemed to think better of it and dropped it back to his side. He shot an agonising glance at the Chief and was aware of the amused, and now silent, Brigadier.

"Oh crap." He muttered under his breath and Eönwë had to turn his head to try and hide the laughter that bubbled up.

Chief stared at the Corporal unblinkingly. "Yes Corporal." He pointed at Eönwë who was struggling to maintain his composure. "This time, you _do _salute _him_. He's a very high ranking officer holding the Queen's Commission. _I'm _the one you don't salute."

Hal Kenwood gave a snort of laughter which he turned into a cough at the last minute.

The young Corporal went red, then white and snapped to attention. He whipped up his hand in a very smart salute to Eönwë, who politely returned the gesture, all the while being very much aware of the fact that the visitor from America was grinning widely at the whole scene.

A mobile phone rang and all them felt for their phones, including the Corporal.

"It's mine." Eönwë said apologetically holding up his mobile phone. "My wife. Apparently I am now _very_ late and I need to go." He nodded at Chief and the visitor and ran lightly down the steps. As he passed the harassed and mortified young soldier who was waiting for a lecture he bent down and whispered conspiratorially in his ear. "His bark is _much_ worse than his bite Corporal."

"I heard that sir." Chief said sternly as he ushered Hal Kenwood into the building.

Eönwë threw his beautiful smile at all of them and eased himself into his Range Rover. Chief shook his head and laughed and the Corporal, who had only ever stood to attention in the presence of the Herald in his capacity of Chief of Staff, immediately joined the rest of the adoring Eönwë fan club.

Hal nodded towards the disappearing Range Rover. "He's got a way with him."

"Oh you don't know the _half_ of it my friend. What I can't wait to hear is why you've decided to visit after all these years. What on earth are you doing here in England? Not that I'm not delighted to see you." Chief led Hal into his office and shifted the large sheaf of papers he had been photocopying earlier from the only other chair in the room besides his own to the top of a small filing cabinet.

Hal settled himself in the chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him and eyed the gently steaming mug of coffee on Chief's desk. "It's a long story Chief and a mug of that coffee would definitely speed things along in the telling."

ooOoo

**Later that afternoon.....**

Chief sat back in his chair when Hal had finished his tale of the wolves that weren't and observed the tall American with a long measured stare until Hal shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Look, if this story is a bit much to take in and believe I totally understand." He began and there was a slightly defensive tone in his voice. "I'm not even sure I believe it myself and I was there!"

Knowles waved a hand at him. "Hal, I consider that we got to know each other very well down through the years and serving with you was an honour. I have never ever known you to exaggerate the truth of anything and I don't think you are starting to do that now. I do believe you..."

"You do?" Hal abruptly jumped up from his seat and paced agitatedly around the small office. The nervous feeling he had been living with for the past week or so began to dissipate a little and he realised just how much he had been relying on his old friend believing him. "Thank the Lord. To be honest on the way over here I kept thinking just how damn far-fetched it all sounded. The past couple of days I was thinking that I had actually lost the last of my marbles altogether."

"Where are you staying?" Chief asked abruptly after a moment's thought.

"A hotel in London, why?" Hal looked puzzled. He could the thought processes revolving around in Chief's mind from the thoughtful expression on his face.

"No reason, I just think you might be safer if I take you to stay with some friends of mine who live locally." Chief replied quite carefully, he didn't want to worry Hal any more than he was already, but how to broach the subject of Elves and Maiar to him without making him too skeptical of the Chief's state of mind, never mind his own?

Hal stopped and stared grimly at him. "You think I'm still in danger of some kind." He said in a flat tone of voice.

Chief shook his head. "I don't know what to tell you Hal. I could say it was a gut feeling and we _both_ understand those very well, but to be honest, I need you to meet these friends of mine and they will be able to make things clearer for you. You'll understand when you meet them and I'll feel better once they've heard your story."

The American nodded slowly. "Okay, I guess I could send to the hotel for my things."

"Don't worry about them for the moment. I know someone who can pick them up for you and settle your bill at the same time." Chief quickly checked his watch and realised that it had turned five o'clock. He began to methodically clear his desk and lock files and paperwork away. Hal watched him in silence until his friend eventually grabbed his uniform cap from the hook on the wall and his combat jacket which he slung over his arm. "Time go methinks. The sooner I get you to safety, the better."

They left the building and Hal settled back in the Volvo estate car while Chief drove him to go and visit the Elves.

ooOoo

**Fryderyk **_(Polish) _proper noun, translates to Frederick in English

**Gustaw **_(Polish)_ proper noun, translating into Gustav

**Poncing**, slang word (_context, UK, pejorative_) To behave in a posh or effeminate manner.

**For Information:**

Officers bearing the Queen's Commission in the British Army can serve until they are 55 and over depending on rank and what position they hold in their unit. They are entitled to 'compliments' from lower ranks, i.e. saluting but the soldier is not actually saluting the person bearing the Queen's Commission in the form of the cap badge, they are actually saluting the Commission itself as the living representation of the HM The Queen who is Head of the Armed Forces. This is why in the British Army you do not salute an officer if you are not wearing headgear and you definitely don't salaute an officer if he is not wearing headgear. You come to attention, but do not pay compliments.

Warrant Officers, of which Chief Knowles is one, were generally introduced throughout the British Army under Army Order 70 of 1915. They are not technically non-commissioned officers, but rather an additional rank structure above NCOs. Warrant Officers hold the Queen's (or King's) warrant, which is signed by the Secretary of State for Defence. There are only two ranks of Warrant Officers, Warrant Officer 1st Class (WO1) and Warrant Officer 2nd Class (WO2). Knowles is a WO1 Staff Sergeant-Major who is the administrative opposite of a Regimental Sergeant Major (RSM). A WO2 would generally hold a Company Sergeant Major title (CSM).

Both ranks are therefore at the top end of the Non-commissioned ranks scale which begins at Lance-Corporal. The rank immediately preceding Warrant Officer is Staff Sergeant which in some regiments is also known as Colour-Sergeant. Anything below Lance-Corporal is termed as part of the 'Other Ranks'.

Eönwë is a Brigadier which is a rank above full Colonel and one rank down from Lieutenant-General.


	22. Raising Hell

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Ah, more fun with Finrod. What could be better than that?

"**Bouncer**: (_outside the Club Luna)_ Claude said no one is to be admitted once the door was locked.  
**Serafine**: The full moon is rising; would you rather I remained out here with you?

**Bouncer**: Uh, no. (_opens the door and lets Serafine in, quickly locking the door behind her)"_

___**An American Werewolf in Paris (1997)**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 22 – Raising Hell**

**Kensington, London**

"Good morning, I am Officer Finrod from the Metropolitan Police and this is..." The tall blond god in front of the bemused hotel receptionist indicated his companion, a tall woman with striking features and short dark curly hair.

"Detective Sergeant Hall ma'am." Jan smoothly whipped out her warrant card and nudged Finrod in his ribs with her elbow as she did so.

Finrod grinned widely and rummaged in his inside pocket for the brand spanking new warrant card with his photograph on it. After a few seconds, during which the receptionist went into thermo-nuclear meltdown all over the floor and Jan tapped her foot and stared up at the ceiling, he finally proudly produced it with a flourish and a slight bow.

"How...how may I help you?" The receptionist positively gushed at him with her eyes all dewy and hero-worshipping and it was then Finrod's turn to do minor bodily harm to his colleague by leaning heavily on her foot after she had given a disgusted exclamation at the obvious adoration in the woman's eyes.

Finrod didn't even pause. "We have come for the belongings of a Mr Hal Kenwood." He said, smiling at her again and causing her to just stare at him with puppy dog eyes. After a few seconds of no response from her Finrod raised a perfect golden eyebrow. "Miss?"

The receptionist jerked back to the here and now and flushed bright red. "Oh...uh...yeah, sorry. Mr Hal Kenwood." She tapped a few keys on her computer keyboard. "Ah yes, Room 204, second floor, we have been expecting you. His luggage is with the Concierge. One of our assistant managers packed everything up for him, but if we left anything out we'll keep it for him and he can collect it later."

"_Would you not do that please?" _Jan hissed in Finrod's ear as they walked over to the Concierge's booth. She didn't have to turn around to know that the receptionist was leaning on the desk staring after the tall handsome Finrod with longing in her gaze.

"What?" Finrod managed to look completely angelic and innocent. He beamed at her, this was a conversation they had on a regular basis. She seemed to like doing it and he was delighted to oblige her.

"I swear to god you do it deliberately just to see their reactions." She scolded. "And you know fine well that I mean the way you act around women; you're a bloody nightmare! I'm surprised your wife lets you out of her sight at all."

Finrod's clear laughter, as golden as his hair and the bright nimbus around him, rang out causing others in the hotel reception area to glance over and also smile. Jim had pleaded with the Elf Lord to just dull himself down a bit, a suggestion which had evinced howls of laughter from Erestor, Maglor and Maedhros who had put his hand consolingly on poor Jim's shoulder.

"Can't be done my friend." Maedhros chuckled. "Finrod could no more dull himself down than Arien could stop burning through the sky seducing Tilion to follow her. Finrod Felagund...dull? Why the very universe would come to a shuddering halt at the very notion."

Jim had sighed and settled for Finrod promising that he would make himself as unobtrusive as he possibly could, something he had failed miserably at so far.

They collected the luggage and headed out to the squad car which they had parked on the spot that said clearly 'No Parking'. A parking meter lady stood nearby on the pavement and glared at the two officers. Jan sighed deeply as Finrod worked his magic by simply smiling at the poor woman who shunted back a couple of steps under the bright gaze of the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life. Realistically the police could stop wherever they wanted on official business, but that didn't usually stop her giving them a piece of her mind for not parking in a designated legal area. However with Finrod she was, for once, lost for words.

Finrod hefted Hal's cases into the trunk of the squad car and looked up at Jan, who was busy opening the driver's side door, with something akin to pleading in his eyes.

"You're _not_ driving." She said firmly.

Finrod hung his head slightly and gazed up at her pleadingly under his lashes.

"_No."_ She said, but her voice wavered a little. She eventually heaved a huge sigh again and tossed the keys over to him. "Okay, this is _much_ against my better judgment, but let me make one thing clear..._no_ driving like a bloody lunatic and the sequence of colours for the traffic lights is..."

"Green, amber then red." Finrod gave her a winsome smile and slid into the driver's seat.

She shuddered and got in the passenger side, fastening her seat belt securely and making sure that she had a good grip on the seat on either side. In fact her knuckles were already white and Finrod had only just started up the engine. She sent out a prayer to whoever might be listening that the airbags on the car were efficient and then shot forward slightly as Finrod practically jumped from zero to forty miles per hour in one fell swoop.

"Slow _down_ for god's sake!" She shrieked and Finrod cackled maniacally. A light similar to Mr Toad of Toad Hall driving his brand new motor car was in his blue eyes and Jan almost expected him to yell out 'Poop poop!' as he drove along.

"Sorry." Finrod was apologetic. "I love cars. They are _wondrous_ things." He crooned.

"Oh god." Jan sank down in the seat and tried not to look at the scenery flashing by at breakneck speed. However as they drove along a main thoroughfare in Kensington she caught a glimpse of something that made her sit up straight in her seat. "Slow down Fin..._now_."

"Something is wrong?" Finrod inquired. He eased up from the accelerator and the car slowed.

Jan rummaged in the folders she had in a briefcase and yanked out a photograph, then she pointed at a solitary figure dressed in a shapeless grey raincoat slinking into one of the many small narrow alleys that London abounds in. "What do you reckon?"

Finrod leaned over to look and then stared at the figure. "Rather difficult to tell from the back."

"Yes, but I caught a glimpse of his face before he turned away and if that isn't somebody slinking about trying not to be seen then I'm a Dutchman."

"Is that like being Finnish?" Finrod inquired.

Jan looked at him and shook her head in despair. "It's...never mind, I'll explain later. Pull over and let's grab him."

Finrod brightened. "Ah, shoot first and ask questions later?" There was a slightly hopeful note in his voice that made Jan roll her eyes. He brought the car smoothly to a stop.

"You watch too much American television." She jumped out and headed after her prey who turned momentarily and, realising that he was being chased, broke into a run, a faster run than Jan had thought possible in a human being. She was hot on his heels though and it was only the fact that the suspect had thrown a large garbage can in her path that slowed her down.

As she picked herself up and prepared to take off after him again she saw Finrod almost fly over her head and tear after the grey-clad figure and realised that the Elf was as fast, if not faster. By the time she got to them, Finrod had already cuffed him and he was standing with his head down and his back to her.

As she turned the prisoner around to get a look at him she was shocked when he raised his head showing a face seamed with grime and what could have been blood, but his eyes...his eyes were yellowish and red rimmed.

She bent forward. "Jeff Harris?"

He stared at her with a mixture of fear and hatred in his eyes and said nothing, but she knew it was him.

"Jeff Harris, I am arresting you on the suspicion of the assault of Lily Harris, you do not have to say anything, but anything you _do_ say can and will be used as evidence against you in a court of law..." She automatically went into the arrest blurb. Finrod said nothing, but merely held onto Jeff's arm in a light but firm grasp. In fact he was not looking at either of them. Instead his gaze was fixed on a point at the other end of the alleyway and his fair brow was now creased in concern.

Jeff Harris also said nothing at all, but deep down a sensation of relief had washed over him. At the same time some new innate sense of danger told him that he was not out of the woods yet. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise up and a low despairing sob escaped him.

"You have to get me out of here _now_." He said desperately to Jan.

Jan stiffened. "You don't tell _me _what to do Mr Harris, you are a suspected felon. We tell _you_ what to do."

"You don't understand." His voice had dropped to a whisper as she proceeded to continue to read him his rights.

She leaned forward and spoke right in his face. "No, _you _don't understand..."

Jeff sank against Finrod with a loan moan of fear. "They're coming."

Finrod had not taken his eyes off the end of the alley, but he automatically gripped Jeff's arm tighter.

"Oh for heaven's sake." Jan exclaimed irritably. "Who is coming?"

"_They_ are coming." Finrod said softly and pointed down the alleyway.

Jan's gaze followed his finger and she felt sick with a terror far beyond mere fear in the pit of her stomach, for there, standing as large as life and twice as natural were two figures entirely out of nightmare or some sick horror movie.

"What do we do?" She could hear a tremor in her voice and struggled to control it. She was a policewoman, highly trained. She had faced down very nasty villains and stood in riot gear while violence rained down around her, but nothing had prepared her for the sight of a real werewolf, all seven feet of him, never mind two of them, and she could smell the foul fetid breath even from where she stood.

"I believe that now we run." Finrod's calm tones cut through some of the fear and it was the Elf Lord who propelled both of them back down the alley at great speed towards the welcome noise of the main road and the squad car.

Finrod thrust Jeff into the back seat of the vehicle and pushed the numb, terrified Jan into the front passenger seat. He slid into the driver's side and started the engine just as the two werewolves reached the end of the alley where it met the main road. By that time they had found the presence of mind to alter back to human form and were running towards the police car. Finrod rammed the car into gear and the tires squealed as they sped away from the kerbside.

Jan was trembling so much that she could hardly speak and her teeth were chattering. She did cast a brief look back at their pursuers and found that they were standing at the edge of the road watching them speed away, but their eyes...she shuddered...the expression in those awful eyes was something she would never forget as long as she lived and now they knew who _she_ was.

As they threaded their way into the rest of the traffic and their pursuers disappeared into the distance she closed her eyes and tried for some modicum of control, therefore she was startled to hear Jeff Harris's hoarse voice speaking in her ear. She turned around to find his face pressed against the wire mesh that was between the front and rear seats of the vehicle.

"Lily..." He croaked. His voice sounded rough and rusty as though he wasn't used to speaking. "My sister...is she alive? You said assault. Is my sister still alive?"

ooOoo

**The residence of Brigadier Gary and Mrs Kim Matthews, Hampshire, England**

Hal didn't know what it was about this place, or the people Chief had brought him to meet, but he did know that here, for the first time in a while, he felt safe and he was immensely grateful for that. His suspension of disbelief had been tested to the utmost when he realised that these people really _weren't_ human in any sense of the word that he understood. Even when faced with proof when shown the delicately up-swept leaf-shaped ears of the Elves, he could feel himself sailing down that big river in Egypt. It was only when that Brigadier with his bright, ageless eyes had asked him whether it was harder to believe in Elves and other beings sent by God than it was to believe in the werewolves that attacked his cabin that he realised how stupid he was being.

They were real. As real as the werewolves who were apparently now in England as well according to the young policeman who had earnestly leaned forward and spoken to him; and there..._there _was the other thing.

The young man was about twenty-four or five. He was tall and dark-haired, but it was his eyes that drew Hal's attention. As he had stared into those grey eyes it was as though another, slightly older, face had superimposed itself across the young man's face. A face that he knew well, but try as he might he couldn't dredge up where he knew it from. It was as familiar to him as his own face and a name kept sliding around in the recesses of his memory but obstinately refused to come to the surface.

He could see that the Brigadier, Eönwë they called him, was watching him closely with those incredible dark blue eyes filled with the wisdom of many ages.

And what sort of weird-assed name was that anyway?

It was only after the red-haired woman with the equally strange name and who didn't look any older than the tall men...Elves... she called her sons and the Brigadier's wife, Kim, intervened and suggested that he might like to retire that he finally began to de-stress in the quiet haven of the room that the tall Elf with long dark shining hair who was apparently called Erestor had kindly shown him to.

He squeezed his eyes shut and was both astonished and relieved to find that the nightmare visions that assaulted him every time he closed his eyes since his flight from his home were not there any more.

Whatever this place was, it was safe. He felt safe and if it hadn't been for the long, war-honed hyper-vigilance he had developed over the years, he could have convinced himself that it had all been a bad dream. However deep in his psyche he knew that they were still out there. He could feel their presence and some knowledge inherent within him told him that he was linked to them; to these strange other-worldly beings and more than anyone else, that young cop.

"Are you sad?"

He was jolted out of his reverie by a child's voice and when he looked towards the door there stood a little girl of no more than three years with spun gold curls and a tip-tilted nose. She was wearing all in one pyjamas with little teddy bears on them and had a furry animal toy of some description under her arm.

He smiled at her. "Just a little sad honey. Do your mommy and daddy know you're out of bed? Want me to fetch them for you? Perhaps you had a nightmare."

Allie stared at him with the direct stare of the very young. After a few moments she came into the room and put her hand trustingly in his.

"No." She said simply. "No nightmares, we don't have nightmares here, but you had a nightmare about very big bad doggies with _huge_ teeth." She twisted her mouth into a shape that was meant to demonstrate a ferocious mouth with with teeth but only succeeded in making herself look more adorable.

He was completely taken aback. What in the world did this child know about his nightmares? "I...uh...yeah, I guess I did have some bad dreams about bad doggies, but I'm fine now."

Allie giggled. "That's because my daddy is here and Unca Maedhros and the others, they chase nightmares away with their light."

Hal felt helpless in the face of this kid's utter composure. "Yeah I guess they do." He murmured, almost to himself. "I guess they do at that."

ooOoo

**The Incident Room Police HQ London the same day  
**

"What the hell was all that about?" Jan asked when they finally got to the office and prepared to write their arrest report up before heading down to Hampshire.

Finrod stared thoughtfully at his pen as though it was going to make some not-to-be-missed revelation to him. "What do you mean?"

Jan let out an exasperated sigh. "The restraints that you had him put in. A bit over the top don't you think?"

"Not at all." Finrod smiled patiently at her. "He is a werewolf and he cannot yet control the changes in his body completely therefore he is a danger to himself and those around him. I realise that the restraints seem harsh, but they are there for his and our safety."

Jan poured the water into cups which already had a teabag and milk in them. "Okay...let's just say our friend Harris _is _a werewolf, it's nowhere near the full moon so surely he's pretty safe to be around at the moment."

Finrod nodded. "I would normally have agreed with you, given the lore, it does seem that the full moon is what usually triggers off the changes, but think back to earlier. If the full moon is what is required, then how is it that those two were able to change and maintain that change into wolven form in broad daylight and not even within the cycle of the full moon?"

She handed him a steaming mug of tea and the sugar. He helped himself to two heaped teaspoons of the sugar and rolled the sweet tea around his mouth as if it was nectar straight from the Gods.

"Oh my, we could have done with this thing you call sugar in the Dagor Bragollach. Most fortifying." He closed his eyes in ecstasy.

Jan chuckled. "That's because you take so much of the stuff you're in a permanent sugar rush. What is this Dagor...whatever you called it?"

"Dagor Bragollach, the Battle of Sudden Flame. My brothers were both slain in that battle along with Bregolas, Chieftain of the House of Beor. Had it not been for his valiant son Barahir, I would also have been slain."

Jan noticed that his eyes had grown distant as they sometimes did. "Must have been a long time ago. I'm very sorry for your loss." She said softly, not knowing what else to say.

He smiled and brushed away a tear from the corner of one of his eyes. "A very long time ago, longer ago than I care to even think about. Now what were we talking about again? Ah yes, werewolves and the full moon."

"You think he's dangerous all the time. The prisoner I mean." Jan took a sip of her own tea and opened up a new report template on her computer screen

"Until he learns to control the wolf within him, yes I do."

"And they...the other werewolves...know we have him." Jan persisted.

Finrod nodded. "Indeed they do and they will know where that is. They will come here and try to get him out."

She groaned and held her head. "Oh great...that's just what we need. A pitched battle here between the unsuspecting police and a bunch of werewolves."

Finrod laughed softly. "And that is why I have requested help from some friends of mine and hopefully they should be on their way here with Jim."

She shook her head. The beginnings of a monstrous migraine were beginning to throb near her temples. "Do I want to know who these people are?" Finrod opened his mouth and she waved her hand at him. "Never mind, don't tell me, just surprise me."

"I will do my very best to do that very thing." Finrod beamed at her.

Jan gave him a measured stare. "I think that's what I'm so afraid of."

ooOoo


	23. The Heat is On

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Thank you again for the reviews, they are, as always, most welcome and I am constantly surprised and please that anyone reads the story at all!

" If a large group of drunk bikers is "holed-up" in a house, the police will send one officer in a squad car. If there is one biker "holed-up" in a house, they will send the entire S. W. A. T. Team. "

___**Murphy's Cop Laws.**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 23 – The Heat is On**

"Right, what have we got then? Update please." Alun Davis sat down at the desk opposite Jan's and raised his eyebrows in query.

"Werewolf... downstairs... in the lock-up sir." Jan replied automatically without even looking up from her computer.

"And more of them on the way..." Finrod added with more than a note of relish in his voice.

From his tone of voice and the light in his eyes it looked to Alun as though the Elf Lord was immensely looking forward to the reality of a pack of werewolves barging in through the downstairs reception area and rampaging through the headquarters to find one of their own.

It was at that point that Jan became aware of quite a few people in the previously empty Incident Room. When she looked up from her computer she realised that she was surrounded by tall beautiful men, in their own way every bit as beautiful as Finrod.

Her face paled. "Oh god...there are _more _of you?"

With that she rose from her chair and headed for the ladies room to splash her face with cold water...preferably lots of icy cold water. Dealing with one Finrod was one thing, dealing with a whole heap of them was something else entirely.

Eönwë sat down in a chair beside Finrod and stared suspiciously at him.

"That poor woman is utterly traumatised Finrod." He said sternly. "What have you been doing to her?"

Finrod flashed an innocent and highly suspect smile at the Herald. "Nothing at all my Lord Herald. I got to drive the police car and we arrested a suspected werewolf...er...criminal. It was _most_ exciting. They chased us right to the car and I had to drive very fast to get everyone away. Then we processed him and put him in the lock-up." He glared around the room at Eönwë 's companions, especially at the Eldar among them, namely Maglor, Maedhros and Erestor. "She was fine until all of you turned up. Is Jim not with you?"

"He's downstairs with Chief Knowles and the boys from the SAS." Alun replied instead of Eönwë who was now speaking quietly and very earnestly with Maedhros and the others. After a moment Finrod saw Erestor quietly leave the room.

"Erestor gone to scout?" Finrod asked quietly when Eönwë had returned to the desk.

Eönwë nodded. "His scouting abilities are second to none Finderato. I can sense a presence as can we all, but it's unclear as to whether that's our captive being down in your jail or whether it's more than that. I realise that it is amusing you to play the diffident, idiosyncratic aristocrat to these poor unsuspecting Secondborn children, but I need you to focus now if you please. With that in mind, I have something for you." He beckoned to Maglor who came over carrying a long beautifully tooled and inscribed leather case which he handed with a smile to Eönwë who in turn handed it on to Finrod.

Finrod's face was a picture of pleasure. "My sword!"

Eönwë laughed softly. "I thought you might need it."

Finrod withdrew the long glittering blade from the case just as both Jan Hall, Jim Moore and Detective Chief Superintendent Phelan came into the room.

"Good god." Phelan had gone as white as a sheet at the sight of the lethal shining weapon. He turned to Jim. " He has a sword. Does he know that they are declarable under law as lethal weapons? He can't just walk around British streets with a bloody sword for god's sake!"

"The Highlander did, and it is not bloody...yet." Finrod replied cheerfully, lovingly running his fingers along the rune-inscripted blade. The others laughed at the television reference and Eönwë rolled his eyes heavenward.

"_They are worse than children over television."_ He could be heard to mutter under his breath.

"What? Highlander? What the devil is he talking about?" Phelan, now thoroughly confused, turned to Alun in desperation looking for some reassurance that this was indeed a bona fide police station and that he hadn't wandered into the local lunatic asylum by mistake.

"Hah, swords." Jan wandered over to her desk. "Why am I not surprised?" She bent over to take a closer look at the weapon Finrod was treating better than he probably treated his wife. "Silver?"

Maedhros answered for him. "Mithril, lady." She looked up at him and he bowed elegantly to her. His long shining red hair, caught up at the sides in warrior braids fell in a heavy curtain over his shoulders. "Not dissimilar to silver. We are not sure if it has the same properties when fighting werewolves, but Lord Eönwë believes it might."

"Fighting werewolves." Jan slowly repeated the phrase. Maedhros stood watching the thought processes flit across her face and his bright green eyes held nothing but sympathy. "Now _there's_ a phrase I never ever thought I would hear myself utter." She looked up at Maedhros who smiled encouragingly at her. "I guess that's just a normal day to you."

Maedhros pulled one of the computer chairs from under the desk and perched on it. He quickly realised, much to his delight, that it spun around and he proceeded to give a couple of twirls before spinning it around to face her. She laughed at the childlike action and he laughed with her before answering her question.

"That much depends on what you think a normal day is like among the Eldar." He mused. "For myself, werewolves have not been as much a primary force to reckon with as they were with Finderato. We were all aware that they were minions of Morgoth of course and Sauron appears to have only perfected them in a most unnatural way. I'm more of an orc person myself."

"Finderato? Oh...you mean _Finrod_. Wait a minute, Finrod has fought werewolves before?" Jan leaned forward eagerly, she hadn't managed to get all that much of Finrod's previous history out of him no matter how hard she tried, perhaps this red-haired colleague of his would be more forthcoming.

Maedhros smiled at her, but there was a glint in his eye which told her that he could be a dangerous adversary if pushed that way. "Did he not tell you?"

"He didn't tell me anything, beyond the obvious of course. I'm still in a state of shock over the fact that you people exist at all! What should he have told me?"

Maedhros peered at the computer screen frowning. "I cannot help but think these screens must hurt the eyes." He remarked absently.

"Yes they do." Jan said impatiently. "You're not supposed to sit in front of them for hours, or so Health and Safety say, but you're avoiding the question...what should he have told me?"

That bright green gaze rested on her for a few seconds, almost as though Maedhros was trying to decide whether she deserved to know the answer to her question, then he gave her a quick smile. "Perhaps _he _should be the one to tell you such things..."

"Oh come _on!_" Jan practically exploded. "He doesn't say _anything_, even when he dribbles on and on. He never stops talking, but he never actually _says_ anything! Look, he's my partner, not through my choosing, but because our boss, DCS Davies, said he had to be, if there is something I should know that might have an influence on his effectiveness as my partner, then I have a right to know." That was her excuse and she was going to stick to it come hell or high water.

Maedhros's silvery laughter rang out. He laid a placatory hand over hers and she felt a shiver of some emotion shoot through her which caused her to snatch her hand away quickly. "Of course." He said sympathetically. "But you must understand that although the females among the Eldar fight if they have to and some are consummate warriors, every bit as good as their male counterparts, they are not usual among us and Finrod is from a time when ellith did not fight, they had their roles and so did we and being a warrior, such as you are, would have been most unusual."

"Yeah, yeah...gender discrimination. I get it. We were like that too, up until the Suffragettes did all sorts of stuff to get the vote...." Jan interrupted.

Maedhros stared at her intently. "It is not the same at all." He remonstrated gently. "I have read about the marginalisation of the Secondborn women by their males and indeed, the Secondborn men of my early days in Middle-earth did practice those inequalities, but we do not. It is simply that the roles for males and females are equally divided and neither gender thinks that the division makes anyone a lesser person than the other. It is simply how it works. Each does what is within their natural makeup. Finrod may not have thought it necessary to recount what happened to him, simply because it is still too painful to talk about or he is finding it hard to accept that you are a warrior, therefore some things are unnecessary for him to say to you."

"But you obviously don't feel that way."

Maedhros shrugged. "I am...how do you say? A 'different kettle of fish' to Finrod. We had armies when my father came to Middle-earth, but my father was entirely practical. For ourselves, we brought few women with us, not even my mother came from Aman to Ennorath with us, nor did Maglor's wife. My brother Curufin did not take his wife with him either, although their son Celebrimbor did come over with the armies. Whatever women did come with us were treated no differently from any other by my father, they were all part of his army and they trained as we did. However, the other Noldor that came with us, Finrod and his brothers, and others, were not of the same persuasion. Of the women that travelled over the Helcaraxe with them, few were able to withstand the suffering of their march and only Artanis could have been construed as a warrior maid of any kind. I think that was why my father liked her so. She had a lot of the same qualities as he did only hers were colder. Ice and Fire..."

His voice trailed off and Jan was so fascinated by what was unfolding she held her breath. She didn't want him to stop talking about a time so far before her time that it had fallen into pre-history. He seemed to realise that she was hanging onto his every word and the remembrance in his eyes faded. He smiled again.

"But I am digressing from the point." He continued gently. "The answer to your question as to why Finderato...Finrod... feels the way he does is because he met his death at the hands of a werewolf. He feels he has unfinished business here." With that he rose gracefully from the seat and turned away.

Jan was so shocked that she momentarily lost the power of speech, but when she realised he was walking away she got up, followed him and gasped his arm. He turned to look down on her and then pointedly looked down at her hand gripping his arm.

"He died?" She was aware that she was holding on to his arm and he didn't really like it. "But how...when...how..." He remained silent, still staring at her hand on his arm and she dropped it with alacrity and flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that. It's just that you fling these comments out and then just walk away. I'm still grappling with the fact that Elves _exist,_ never mind that they die and apparently come back to life."

Maedhros looked up into her face. He studied her for a moment and she could have sworn that those piercing green eyes stared right down into her soul. Finally he gave her a courtly little bow.

"Apology accepted." His green eyes glinted with lazy amusement and she felt a sudden inexplicable tightness in her chest. "I would be happy to give you a potted history of the Eldar, but I feel that you should perhaps wait until you hear from someone with a less...er...jaundiced point of view. I am still making reparation for ills I committed long ago and someone like Master Elrond would serve better to tell you what you wish to know. But Finderato...he should be the one you ask your questions of when it comes to personal matters involving him. I should not have even told you as much as I have. Give him time, once he is used to you, he will tell you all you wish to know. This one thing I will tell you though.. unlike Mortal Man, the Eldar do not have the Gift of Iluvator, we can die, but we are bound to Arda...this earth for as long as it exists. Man is not the same, they have a finite lifespan and when the time comes they accept the Gift and they die and pass beyond the Circles of the Earth. We Eldar do not, we are all under the Doom of the Eldar. If we die our souls reside in the Halls of Waiting until such time as the Valar decide we can be reborn. If you wish to know more, then you should speak with Lord Eönwë " He gestured to where the tall, absolutely beautiful and obviously senior, British Army officer was standing talking to Alun Davis and Phelan.

Jan felt ashamed of herself for pressing him the way she had and she hung her head slightly. "Thank you for telling me as much as you have." She mumbled. "I didn't mean to offend you."

He placed a long slender finger under her chin and lifted it so that she could do nothing other than stare into his face. "You have not offended me little one." He said softly. "I will look forward to speaking with you again, but _after_ this is over with."

Jan stood stock-still, frozen to the spot, as Maedhros dropped his finger and moved away gracefully to where his brother was watching them with a quizzical expression on his face. Her emotions were in a turmoil and her heart was thudding painfully in her chest like a jackhammer.

"I think he likes you." Finrod's voice sounded near to her ear and she could feel his warm breath tickling her cheek.

ooOoo

**The residence of Brigadier Gary and Mrs Kim Matthews, Hampshire, England**

Hal Kenwood paced up and down the length of the living room. Nerdanel and Kim were sitting with a cup of tea and chatting to each other with Kim occasionally correcting Nerdanel's English which also caused them to bubble up with laughter every so often. They weren't ignoring Hal per se, but both knew he was very worried and that the pacing seemed to calm him a little, so neither commented. He felt that by coming over he had made the whole werewolf issue worse somehow, no matter how much Chief and Eönwë tried to reassure him.

Finally he stopped pacing and leaned against the mantelpiece. "I should be there with them in this."

"You are not responsible for any of this Hal." Kim said quietly. "My husband must have had a good reason for not wanting you there and for what it's worth I agree with him. You are jet-lagged and stressed, I may not have been a good soldier, but even I know that going into a battle situation in that state isn't a good idea. In any case, if you are there, it leaves Nerdanel, Allie and myself alone here."

"Indeed." Nerdanel's tones were soft and her English strongly accented. "Lord Eönwë has put great trust in you by leaving us in your care."

Neither she nor Kim mentioned the fact that because of Eönwë's absence from his family and the growing danger around them, they were now surrounded by the disincarnate forms of warrior Maia, sent over by Lord Manwe himself. However Hal wasn't to know that and being in charge of their safety somewhat mollified him.

"I guess so." He said slowly.

Nerdanel patted a spot on the sofa next to her. "Then please, do come and sit down beside me, I wish to hear more about that fascinating country of Canada."

Kim sighed. "Well I guess we won't hear anything for a while. I'd better go and check on Allie, if you'll both excuse me. She hates it when her daddy isn't here to tell her a story and apparently I don't tell good stories."

Nerdanel and Hal both laughed. "Well now Miz Kim, I've been known to spin a good yarn now and then, so if the little one won't settle let me know." Hal said with a sat down beside Nerdanel on the sofa. She poured him out some coffee from the pot which he accepted with gratitude.

"I'll do that." Kim left the room and headed up the stairs to Allie's room. She froze in place when she heard voices in the room, Allie's high pitched piping and a deeper tone. Kim lifted a fairly heavy vase off the upstairs landing table and slowly pushed the door open.

"I hope you're not going to hit me with that." The deep voice commented.

Kim sagged against the doorway with relief. "Lord Tulkas, what are you _doing_ here? Does Eönwë know you're here?"

Tulkas got up from the end of Allie's bed and drew Kim into a bear hug. "He doesn't, but I decided I couldn't trust this little one and your safety to a few Maia. Manwe took a bit of convincing and I am meant to be on my best behaviour...no interfering in mortal affairs and all that. I originally wanted to go and join in the fun in this London place, but I have strict instructions to remain here."

Kim choked back her laughter and returned the bear hug. "I think you might be a bit much for the Metropolitan Police to swallow Lord Tulkas. It's bad enough that they're trying to cope with a few Elves."

"Hmmm. Yes. Manwe also suggested something of the kind." He glanced back down at the now very sleepy Allie and a soft foolish smile crossed his face when her small thumb drifted towards her mouth. He gently pushed the thumb away and Kim tucked the blankets up around her and kissed her on the forehead. "You've both done a good job with this little one."

"To tell the truth." Kim confessed. "I spend my time flying by the seat of my pants with her. She really isn't like ordinary kids and when she plays with them at the nursery you can see it. She sometimes says things that make the nursery staff look a bit askance, but mostly she's doing well."

Tulkas smiled down at her. "That's because she isn't an ordinary child Kim, not by a long shot. We are all looking forward so much to meeting her properly and welcoming you all to Aman."

"Well perhaps we might eventually get there when Eönwë finally finishes his task set by the Powers That Be. She'll probably be in her twenties by then." Kim turned off the reading lamp and switched on the night light. "She doesn't really need this, but when Eönwë isn't here she asks for it to be on. Erestor and the others also check in on her usually and I think she's missing that tonight, so it's really a godsend that you're here."

Tulkas chuckled. "Godsend? Did you _really_ say that?"

Kim gave a gurgle of laughter. "I did didn't I? Come down and meet Hal Kenwood and say hello to Lady Nerdanel. We have some lovely cake that Erestor made and I might even be able to find a glass of wine for you."

"Cake and wine? Not to be refused at any time. And speaking with Lady Nerdanel is always a pleasure at any time" Tulkas offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

ooOoo

**The Incident Room Police HQ London**

The Desk Sergeant traipsed up the stairs and buttonholed Phelan in the Incident Room. "We've evacuated the building as ordered sir, we just told them that it was a gas leak and that these lads..." He indicated the Elves, the three SAS operatives and Eönwë. "...are part of the team sorting it out. Do you need me to stay?"

Phelan glanced at Davies who shook his head. "No Sarge, you get yourself away, have dinner with the wife for a change, say hello to the kids before they stop remembering who you are. You'll get a call when all is clear for you to come back on duty."

The Desk Sergeant chuckled. "I think the wife might need reminding, never mind the kids. Good night sir." He nodded at Eönwë and Alun Davies and left.

"So...now what?" Phelan asked, the waiting was starting to get to him.

"Now we wait." Eönwë said quietly. A slight commotion in the corridor drew both of their attention. Another two SAS operatives came in with Jeff Harris, in restraints and cuffs was brought into the office.

"Put him in that corner office would you Corporal?" Eönwë spoke to the SAS troopers and pointed at the small office which was usually occupied by Alun Davies. "And stay with him please. It's imperative that they don't reach him."

The soldiers nodded and ushered a terrified looking Jeff into the office at gunpoint. They shut the door.

Phelan looked around the room. Each of the foreigners, he refused to call them Elves, had placed themselves at strategic points around the room. Even Alun had taken up a position and Phelan noticed with a shock that both he and Jim carried wicked looking, slightly curved swords, just like the Elves. Jan had positioned herself between Officer Finrod and the tall redhead, he couldn't see if she had a weapon, but it wouldn't have surprised him at all.

He also realised that these people were the business and that he felt that his presence was utterly pointless, so his tone when he finally spoke to the tall Brigadier who had taken command was quiet and resigned.

"Where do you want me?" He asked Eönwë. "I don't have a weapon of any kind I'm afraid."

Eönwë smiled down at him. "But you are weapon trained I imagine?"

Phelan blinked. "Of course, it is part of our training, although I don't get to be at the sharp end usually these days."

"Then you can use this." Eönwë unbuttoned his holster and handed the policeman his pistol.

Phelan took it with trembling hands and turned it over. "What will you use?" He asked.

Eönwë unsheathed his sword and Phelan was momentarily blinded by the pure silver light that reflected off it. Tiny blue electrical bolts crackled along the edge of the blade and Phelan pitied any werewolf who got in the way of the lethal looking blade.

"B...bullets don't generally kill werewolves do they?" He tried not to stutter and struggled to keep his growing fear under check.

The Herald smiled at him again and grasped his shoulder reassuringly. "The rounds in the magazine are silver Superintendent Phelan, they will kill a werewolf. They're specially made for this purpose." He reached into his trouser pocket and brought out two more magazines. "Here, you'd better take these as well and perhaps you could position yourself beside me. The aim of the game is to stop them from taking Harris."

Phelan glanced across the room at Alun's office where he could just make out Harris and his two guards through the frosted glass of the partition. "Why is he so important?"

Eönwë followed his gaze. "He has resisted the call of the others Superintendent and it is a very strong call. We need to know why and how he has done this. Once this night's work is done Harris is to be transferred to military custody and there are people waiting to test him to see _exactly_ what is different about him."

"Scientists."

Eönwë nodded. "Yes, military scientists, but he will not be harmed. We also wish to see if he can be helped."

"And if he can't be helped?" Phelan wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer to his question.

"And if he can't then his fate will be out of your hands anyway." Eönwë's voice was grim and his mien sober. "He will then be placed into the keeping of a much higher power than any of us...for his own safety as well as the safety of others."

"Hîr vuin Eönwë." The tall dark haired Elf who had been scouting outside the building came over to where Phelan and the Herald stood.

"I dass carnen? " Eönwë asked him. Erestor inclined his head in assent and continued to report in that beautiful, mellifluous language of theirs. Eönwë answered him in the same language and then dismissed him. He turned away and joined his fellows, pulling out two very wicked looking bone handled knives from the scabbards at each side of the belt at his waist.

"Okay, listen up." Eönwë raised his voice so that everyone could hear him. "They are on their way. As in Marseilles they have a Magus with them who will weave a glamour around the building and which also makes the Lycans more powerful. To those outside it will be business as normal, people in the street will see nothing amiss. Erestor and one of the SAS troopers will go out shortly and take him out once their troops are inside the building. This won't stop the glamour which needs time to wear off, but will hopefully reduce their power and strength which is being magically boosted. After that, well, you all know the pack drill...it's slice and dice all the way. Oh...and shoot if you have a gun."

Phelan felt something akin to an electric shock thrill through his body as the glamour woven by the Magus, whatever that was, kicked in and he tensed up. He hefted the gun Eönwë had given him and let its weight and solidity reassure him. He took the safety off and cocked the weapon. All around him he could see that they were preparing for battle. His mouth suddenly filled with saliva and a metallic taste hit the back of his throat. The enormity of it all finally hit him like a steamroller. He was going into battle with creatures that had _no_ right existing in his world. He felt a sudden rush of adrenaline and a feeling of complete outrage fueled his anger.

"Nadirio!" Finrod suddenly called out.

"Stand to!" Eönwë's quiet, but penetrating voice cut through the by now electric atmosphere. He withdrew his sword from its scabbard again.

Phelan drew in a deep breath, raised his gun and tried to remember everything he had ever been taught about using it.

ooOoo

**Hîr vuin****Eönwë. **(Sindarin phrase) My Lord Eönwë

**I dass carnen? **(Sindarin Phrase) Is it done?

**Nadirio! **(Sindarin Phrase) Beware!


	24. The Wolf in me

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Many apologies again for the delay in posting. Unfortunately this horrible year has not finished with me yet. My youngest son is being made redundant and I've spent the last week or so trying to support him and also trying to looking after my grandson during his half term. So not much time for myself at the moment. Anyhoo...after a fairly serious beginning, I decided to have a bit of fun with the Valar in this chapter. They've been awfully quiet so far and after all, they do have a vested interest in the whole shebang!

" A drunk was in front of a judge. The judge says 'You've been brought here for drinking.' The drunk says 'Okay, let's get started.' "

___**Henny Youngman**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 24 – The Wolf in me**

Jeff Harris was only vaguely aware of the preparations for battle going on in the outside room. His newly honed Lycan instincts informed him that battle was approaching; as were those who had previously hunted him. Their siren call had alternatively beseeched and promised many wonderful things but now sent out a screeching demand for him to come to them, however his exhausted and confused brain was blocking out the imperious summons.

Try as he might to close his eyes to it, Lily's face kept floating in front of him like an accusing banner and he dared not even _begin _to think about his nephew. Nobody had answered his question as to whether Lily and her son were still alive and all Jeff's brain could do was to constantly roll out his worst imaginings in front of him with sickening repetition. Grief and pain sat behind his eyes like a curtain of molten lava and he could hardly swallow past the lump in his throat.

He hunched in his chair, wrists and legs in restraints and although on some level he knew that if he gave into the now insidious whispers in his brain he could probably snap the restraints as though they were nothing more than strands cooked spaghetti, something was stopping him. So instead he drew in a series of shuddering breaths and stared at his grim-faced guards with eyes that were hot with muted rage and stinging with exhaustion.

What was the point of trying to escape? His guards weren't idiots, they were highly trained Special Forces soldiers, he knew they would fire at him without hesitation if he broke free and he knew, even without being told, that their weapons held ammunition that could, and would, kill him.

So why didn't he just do it? Why didn't he just break free and greet death with relief? He was desperately tired, scared out of his wits and he knew that he didn't want to live on like this. Certainly not with Lily and her son's death on his conscience. He could just transform and end the whole bloody nightmare once and for all.

He shifted uncomfortably on the chair and flexed his fingers, a movement that didn't escape the eagle-eyes of his guards who both also shifted into a more alert position, if that was at all possible. A deathly silence had fallen over the room outside and he knew that it was the deep breath before the plunge.

It was into that silence that another voice sifted through the incessant noise in his brain.

The two SAS soldiers stared at their captive, fingers always hovering over the trigger. Their orders from the Brigadier were quite clear. If things went badly and those outside were unable to hold their own against the oncoming enemy, they were to immediately terminate their captor's life and they both held capsules of a mixture which they were to sprinkle over his remains. Neither had been told what the mixture would do to human remains and both were too good a soldier to ask. They would simply obey orders, especially from this particular senior officer.

And for Jeff the new voice persisted. It promised nothing other than peace, which sounded rather comforting to Jeff, but even as he listened to this new voice in his terrified brain, an horrific snarling sounded outside and the eerie howling that sprang up from the approaching Lycans lifted the hairs up on the back of the SAS soldiers' necks even as it sent a bestial thrill through Jeff's veins as they throbbed and pulsed with the almost overwhelming desire to metamorphose.

Only the calm tones of the voice kept him from actually doing it.

ooOoo

**Animal Reception area, Heathrow Airport, England.**

Dr Xavier du Pree watched as the British DEFRA official cleared Rasputin and Bob through the procedure that would allow them entry to Britain without having to go through quarantine. The animals looked tired and wobbly from the mild sedative the vet in Canada had given them to see them through what for them would be a difficult longhaul flight, but otherwise they seemed okay. Bob managed a croaky bark when he saw Xavier, but Rasputin merely sat in his cat carrier and glowered at all and sundry.

Once free of their part of immigration control Xavier would travel to the English Brigadier's house in Hampshire and deliver them to their owner.

It wasn't that Xavier didn't wish to look after the animals, he would miss their company, but he had just been called to an important archaeological dig in Switzerland. Normally it would have taken a considerable amount of C4 explosive to shift him from Kitsilano, but this request for his services had come from very high up indeed. Hal had immediately told him to bring the animals on over.

Not for the first time he found himself wondering why he had been chosen for position on the team in Switzerland. He wasn't an archaeologist, he was a linguist and also an expert in plant lore, but he suspected that there were probably tablets and scrolls perhaps of some kind that needed to be translated and deep in his heart the idea of finding something utterly undiscovered in this jaded world still sent a thrill through him.

So here he was, at Heathrow Airport, waiting for the officials to clear Hal's two pets. Once this was done they would travel to their final destination and be reunited with their real owner. Once he had discharged that duty, it was back to the airport and a flight to Geneva where he would be met by the people who were heading up the dig.

As the official completed the last of the paperwork and the animals were loaded onto one of those nifty little vehicles that usually took luggage and passengers through the terminal, Xavier took out the letter he had been sent and read it through again. Once he had reached Geneva, he would then be travelling in the company of a group of carefully selected Archaeologists, Anthropologists and technicians to the town of Martigny where they would be based during the excavations.

It was utterly intriguing. What on earth could have been unearthed in the mountains between Switzerland and Italy? He knew the area well from a long acquaintance with travelling in the area. He also that extensive maintenance work had begun on the Great St Bernard Pass, but the fact that the maintenance had apparently uncovered something of huge archaeological interest had _not_ been publicised. He felt a sudden lurch of excitement in his gut which was strong enough to also quell an underlying unease. The Alps were an extremely ancient mountain range and hadn't always looked as it did now. There were deep cave systems within the mountains which had never ever been explored in modern times.

Who knew what was still in there, deep in the bowels of the earth?

He folded up the letter and pushed it back into his overnight carry-on bag without reading the small print at the bottom of it. Even if he had read it, it would not have _immediately _alerted him to anything, but it was to be an omission that he would regret later on.

"They're all clear Mr du Pree." The cheerful tones of the DEFRA official broke into his reverie. "You can board the vehicle and the driver will take you through the terminal to your car. You _do _have some form of transport to get you where you're going?"

Xavier glanced at him over the top of his half moon glasses. "I believe there is someone waiting for me...and it's _Dr_ du Pree."

The official's eyebrows rose slightly. "Well then _Doctor _du Pree...welcome to the United Kingdom. I hope you have a very pleasant stay." His words were welcoming, but his tone and demeanor were stiff.

Xavier sighed, he had forgotten how brusque and touchy British officialdom could be, However it was probably best if he let discretion be the better part of valour, so he merely nodded at the official and jumped onto the little vehicle without saying anything further. After all, a huge adventure awaited him and he couldn't help but be very excited. After a long self-imposed exile in the west, he was finally going home.

The animals seemed to catch his mood. Bob barked again, this time less croaky since he had been given some water. Rasputin still glowered around him, as though everything that had happened to him since leaving Canada had obviously been directed as a personal insult, but he did manage to purr when Xavier gently stroked his ear through the mesh on the cat carrier.

"You'll soon be with your daddy." He said softly. Rasputin remained unimpressed despite the purring so Xavier settled back in the front seat and watched the busy airport and the mass of human beings all either going somewhere or meeting someone who had come back trundle past them.

The vehicle driver discharged his cargo efficiently but fairly abruptly at the Arrivals exit. He did it so speedily that Xavier was left blinking in bemusement with his luggage and two large cat carriers on the pavement. All around him people were scurrying here and there, hailing cabs, waiting in queues for the Hoppa buses or the Railair coaches. Here and there a few were getting into private cars but there was no sign of any vehicle of the description he had been given. Xavier glanced up at the exit signs just to reassure himself that he was in the right place and settled himself to wait. He was tempted to get his pipe out, but resisted the temptation. Someone was coming for them, he knew that, it was just that the someone was late.

Finally, after about twenty minutes or so, and as Xavier was beginning to get impatient and more than a little anxious, a white minibus pulled into the side of the road near to where he was standing. A young man dressed in army greens and a black beret jumped out and approached him.

"Dr du Pree?"

Xavier felt a wave of relief sweep over him. "Yes?"

"Brigadier Matthews sent me sir. He asked me to give his compliments _and _his sincere apologies and to let you know that he's been unavoidably delayed. I'm to take you to his residence. Mrs Matthews is expecting you."

Xavier chuckled. "Then lead on young man, I bear precious cargo and I have another flight to catch this evening. I'd like to get these two settled and some food in my stomach before I head out again."

The soldier grinned in answer and started to load the pet carriers onto the vehicle carefully placing them on the floor where they wouldn't slide around. Finally he put Xavier's cases in the trunk of the vehicles and gestured for Xavier to get in the front passenger seat.

Moments later they had left the airport and were bowling southwards along the M25 heading towards Alton in Hampshire.

ooOoo

The Halls of the Valar, Oiolosse, Mount Taniquetil in Valinor

Varda sat down beside her husband who was currently slumped with his head in his hands in his favourite marble chair with the blue velvet cushions.

"Is this a wise decision beloved?" She asked softly, placing her slim white hand on the sleeve of his deep blue heavy silk robes.

Manwe was silent for a moment. Wise? _Was_ it a wise decision? He heaved a sigh. No decision he or any of the Valar had made during these days of modern Arda Marred could be construed as having wisdom. They were more...what was the word he was thinking of...._necessary. _Iluvator had decreed that the Valar were to take an interest in Arda...an interest that actually stopped short of direct intervention.

And just when they had all settled into a nice peaceful retirement with the Eldar all nicely safe and settled as well.

Now here they were sending Elves back over to that abominable place, to Eru knows what dangers and possible death. Namo had been no use at all when Manwe had protested that the Halls of Waiting would be full of dead Elves again. He had merely smiled and walked serenely away; no doubt to go and prepare rooms for the influx. Manwe felt a wave of irritation sweep over him and then downright annoyance as he heard an echo of the rich, dark, chocolate laughter of the Doomsman of the Valar in the back of his mind.

Varda could see her husband's thoughts and bit back a gurgle of laughter at the mental vision of Namo cleaning out chambers in the Halls of Waiting and standing like Mine Host, awaiting his ghostly guests. In fact she knew that Namo was no more enamoured of the fact that Elves had once again travelled the straight road back to the East despite the decree that none of them would be allowed to than anyone else was.

Apparently, however, where Arda Marred was concerned, everything was, once again, up for grabs.

Manwe sighed again and patted Varda's hand. Before lifting it, turning it over and dropping a light kiss on her palm. "No my love, nowhere _near_ wise. Downright stupid in fact, but necessary. They need all the help they can get in this battle and will probably need more before the end. These Werewolves are only the start."

Varda gracefully rose from her seat beside him and gestured to Ilmare who brought over a tray of the light sparkling honey wine made by the Teleri and which was a favourite in Oiolosse.

"So much for our non-interference, isolationist policies." She remarked.

Manwe glared suspiciously at his wife. "Have you been sneaking a peek at those Mortal news bulletins from Arda? You sound just like a modern politician."

Varda's laughter bubbled out of her like silver bells. "Sorry my love." She tried for contrite and only managed to sound vaguely apologetic. "It just seems to me that when it comes to the Dagor Dagorath, the blessed Iluvator does love to move those goalposts."

"Move the goalposts?" Manwe's question was filled with confusion. "What do goalposts have to do with the Battle of all Battles and the remaking of Arda? It's not a game of football you know."

Varda poured out a glass of the pale golden wine and handed it to Manwe. "I'll tell you what I think. I think there _is _no bloody battle of battles. I think it's all a huge con to keep Tulkas and Turin happy. After all they spend an inordinate amount of time sharpening swords. Of course it does keep them out of mischief."

"Varda!" Manwe couldn't keep the shock out of his voice. "Not so loud..."

Varda raised her delicately sculpted brows. "Oh for heaven's sake Manwe. He can hear us whether we talk loudly _or _whisper. I think the Dagor Dagorath is a fudge. Why else would Eru have changed his tack mid-stream and start interfering in the affairs of Arda? Arda isn't going to fizzle to an end just because Melkor says so."

"Did Melkor say so?" Manwe sounded interested. "I can't even remember who said there was going to be a final battle."

"It was Mandos who said it." Irmo materialised in the room beside them and immediately raided the fruit bowl. "I fully recollect the moment. When Arda was formed finally to Atto's satisfaction Namo jumped up and rabbited on about the breaking of Arda and Melkor tearing down the Door of Night. He destroys the Sun and the Moon and Earendil then puts his horn in. After that, all hell breaks loose, everyone is fighting, the Silmarils appear and Feanaro comes out of the Halls to give them to your lovely lady wife here. I get a bit hazy after that. My eyes start to glaze over when Namo rambles on like that." He bit a huge chunk out of a juicy apple with a satisfying crunch.

Manwe sank back down into an attitude of gloom, doom and despondency. "It all sounds far too hectic. I vote we send whatever help we have available in order to avoid the Dagor Dagorath. After all Atto obviously doesn't want there to be a new Dark Power arising, otherwise he wouldn't have bothered sending Eönwë in the first place."

Varda smiled sweetly at her husband and Irmo. "Oh goody, it's nice to have my question answered _so_ succinctly."

She inclined her head and de-materialised, muttering something under her breath about garrulous old idiots who could never get to the point.

Manwe glared at the empty space where his wife had previously stood. "Is she being sarcastic again?"

"Only a lot, brother." Irmo patted Manwe's arm sympathetically. "Only a lot. Wives are like that you know." He lifted the delicate cut glass decanter of wine and gestured towards Manwe's half empty glass. "Have another drinkie-poo. _Everything_ looks better after a few glasses of the old vino."

Manwe held out the glass and watched while Irmo carefully aimed for it and slopped more wine on the marble floor than actually went into the glass. Irmo finally managed to fill it up and then beamed at Manwe owlishly.

"Looks like you've already had a few Irmo." Manwe said dryly. "You must have started early."

Irmo collapsed onto another of the marble, velvet cushioned chairs. "The shun...sun's always over the yard-arm _somewhere _in the world." A cryptic statement that only served to confuse Manwe even more than he was already.

"Ereinion Gil-galad." Irmo continued gloomily. There followed a moment's silence during which Manwe struggled to comprehend what Irmo was actually talking about.

"Do _what?_" Manwe finally gave up.

"Gil-galad, Fingon's boy. He'sh.._he's_ been rehoused." Irmo peered into his wine glass before downing the contents in one swallow. He was obviously having trouble enunciating his words clearly now indicating quite an advanced stage of inebriation.

"And this supposed event of great joy has driven you to hit the bottle?"

Irmo stared at the now empty bottle of wine as though he could will it into being full. Ilmare made to approach with another bottle but Manwe grabbed her arm before she could.

"Not the wine." He hissed at her. "He's had enough. Bring some of that nice apple juice Ingwe loves so much. He's so far gone he'll never know the difference."

Ilmare inclined her head and hurried off to find some apple juice, while Manwe attempted to distract Irmo from his obvious intention to drink them out of house and home.

"So what's the problem with young Ereinion?" He asked

Irmo fixed him with an owlish stare which told Manwe that the wine had gone straight to his head. "You know how the reborn _alwaysh_ come out of the Hallsh not knowing who they are really and have to learn to live again?"

Manwe nodded.

"Well...Er...Erein...whatever hish name is, came out demanding to be sh...sent back to Middle-earth." Irmo hiccuped. Ilmare came in with a decanter full of pale golden fluid which Manwe hoped and prayed was apple juice. She placed it down beside Irmo and poured him out a glass.

"On what grounds?" Manwe asked curiously. Usually the Reborn weren't all that much trouble, being very confused and unused to having a corporeal form. Also most of their memories of their past life were muted. They had to learn to live in the real world again and were frightened of their own shadows. Apparently Fingon's boy had come out raring to go and spitting nails. He giggled softly to himself at the mental picture this conjured up.

"On the groundsh that he has unfish..unfinished...bishnesh there." Irmo downed the apple juice in one go.

"Bishnesh?" Manwe echoed, now thoroughly confused.

Irmo glared at his empty glass. "Thingsh shtill left to do. _Bushinessh_. Something wrong with your hearing old boy? I shay Manwe, thish wine tashtesh a bit odd. I think I need to lie down for a while."

He struggled to his feet and attempted to de-materialise, but for some reason seemed to lack the correct focus to achieve it. Manwe sighed and gestured to two of the Maia warriors assigned to duty in the Halls of the Valar. They came over and each took Irmo gently by an arm.

"Oh my, did you know that the ground ish shwaying? Could be an earthquake." Manwe watched with fascination as Irmo's complexion turned a little green around the gills. The Vala of dreams smiled lopsidedly at the Maiar. "Thanksh _awfully_ dear boysh."

The three of them started to de-materialise just as Manwe realised that Irmo still hadn't explained about Gil-galad.

"Wait a minute." He shouted just as all three disappeared, upon which Irmo's face suddenly popped back and hovered in mid-air in front of the Elder King.

"Yesh?" He asked.

"Ereinion... Fingon's boy. He is quite safe in Lorien?"

Irmo squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated so that all that was left of his face was his smile, rather like the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland. "Oh dear me no. He wash far too dish..dish...dishruptive. Lorien hash become quite a haven of peash you know, can't have people running around shouting at the top of their voishes, waving sh...shwor...uh... weaponsh all willy-nilly. He rushed off to the coasht babbling on about boatsh. I tol' him to go and shee Olwe. Fine fellow. He'll sh...sh...sort him out with a _nice _little boat."

Manwe groaned loudly and Olorin appeared in front of him quite abruptly. "It's fine my Lord." He said gently. "I sent four of the Maiar after him. They overtook him on the road to Aqualonde and took him straight to Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. They will calm him down and see he doesn't do anything rash."

Manwe shuddered with relief. "Thank god. Look after Irmo will you Olorin and see that young Gil-galad is brought here to me, along with that Celebrimbor chappie. I may have a task for them."

Olorin bowed. "I will my Lord."

He de-materialised and Manwe reached for his wine glass.

ooOoo


	25. Angels and Demons

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Another delay, too much going on. Thanks again to those who did review, I will get around to answering you when life has stopped throwing me wobblies. In the meantime, we pick the tale up with Thranduil and the others.

" PAST, n. That part of Eternity with some small fraction of which we have a slight and regrettable acquaintance. "

___**Ambrose Bierce. 1911. The Devil's Dictionary**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 24 – Angels and Demons**

**A road along the coast from the city of Marseilles**

No amount of words could have adequately described Elrond's feelings as the car sped along the road from Marseilles towards the Chateau where Celebrian and Maksim were alleged to have taken refuge. Rationality, sheer despair and terror warred with each other inside him. He wanted to punch hell out of the vampire, thank him effusively, scold his wife and kiss her at the same time. What on earth had she be thinking?

_What was he thinking by bringing her to Arda Marred when she had already escaped it once?_

Thranduil and Glorfindel sat in the front of the vehicle with the former Elven King driving swiftly, but smoothly, along the highway. Elrond and Haldir sat in the back, Elladan had reluctantly accompanied Eönwë back to England at the Herald's firm suggestion since it was plain that Elrond was frantic enough about his wife without the impetuous Elladan flying off on one of his bouts of errantry.

Occasional tiny, but picturesque, villages clinging to the coastline, the wine-dark Mediterranean sea on their right and the indigenous vegetation on the left flashed by them in a haze. If Elrond had not been in such a blue funk over his wife he would have admired everything and he also would have appreciated just how expert Thranduil was with _all _modern aspects of life. Instead he fumed darkly, in a mood almost as dark as the roiling purple and vivid red storm clouds beginning to gather in the sky above them.

"Weather is turning." Glorfindel suddenly announced out of the blue.

Thranduil glanced briefly out of the front car windscreen and nodded. "Yes. Not much further now. We should make it before the storm breaks. These roads along the coast are often subject to mudslides if the rain is very heavy, if we had started out later and the rain came we would have had to make a detour." He looked over his shoulder quickly at Elrond, who was hunched in the back seat muttering to himself. "How are you faring Elrond? We will be there soon."

There was no reply from Elrond who glared at nothing in particular and continued to mutter under his breath in Sindarin, Thranduil chuckled and turned his attention back to the road just in time to swing around another bend in the road much to Glorfindel's immense relief as he was visualising meeting his death down another steep drop and having to face Lord Namo again.

A sudden thin arc of lightning split the night sky and stabbed the the ocean, which rose up slightly as if in welcome. The stark white light briefly illuminated everything around it and for a moment buildings, bushes and the road flickered in sharp black and white relief like a strobe light. Thranduil glanced in the rear view mirror, but there were no other cars behind him and very few approaching from the other direction. Apparently the people of the south coast of France had more sense than to travel when a storm was approaching.

He drove on silently, but with a prickling in the senses and of the hair on the back of his neck telling him that something...he was not sure what...was out there still, watching them. His foot instinctively pressed harder on the accelerator and he had to force himself to relax it and keep the smooth pace of the vehicle. It wouldn't do at all for the car to spin off the road. Not with a fairly steep drop to the ocean and the fact that the road wound around the coast with the occasional hairpin bend.

It was Glorfindel whose sharp eyes caught the turning that the vampire in the Marseilles house had warned them to look for. Two crumbling sandy coloured walls and an unkempt road abruptly loomed up on the left and, hanging lopsidedly on one of the large stones still standing, was a worn sign..._Chateau Villefranche._

He touched Thranduil on his arm and pointed. "There...next on the left, it's the turning."

Thranduil grunted in acknowledgment and swung the car around with a scrunch of tires on the loose gravel. The vehicle bounced around on the road which had not seen maintenance for some time. Thranduil assumed that the vampires deliberately kept it ill-kempt in order to stop curious people wandering in. Nobody in the world would have thought there was a large chateau at the end of such a miserable, pot hole-strewn road.

The car suddenly hit one of the potholes and bounced upwards shooting them into the verge between the road and the trees. Glorfindel's head bumped the roof the car as he bounced up off the seat and he whooped in delight like a child as his stomach stayed up there for a moment and then landed back where it was supposed to be. Thranduil's rich golden laughter rang out as well as he brought the car back under control. They both glanced backwards at Elrond who was staring at them under furiously frowning black brows. He was gripping the front of the car seat for grim death and glowering at everything.

They both turned back to the front with huge grins on their faces at the sight of the normally urbane, imperturbable Master of New and Old Imladris reduced to a mass of emotions, wild eldritch black hair and un-muted irritation. Haldir hid yet another smile and clung to the hand grip on the car door to stop himself from being flung around.

The first large drops of rain plopped and spattered on the windscreen as another slim arc of lightning rent the night sky and sputtered on the dust not five feet to the left of the road. The going was getting harder because the trees and bushes on either side of the road had not been trained or pruned away from it in many years, probably decades even. Thin whiplash branches now cracked against the side windows and occasionally even across the front windscreen.

The road seemed to go on for hours to Elrond, although realistically he knew that it was only twenty minutes or so, but he was so intent on reaching their destination and Celebrian that he was now hunched on the very edge of the back seat with a hand gripping each backrest of the front seats. Because he was so concentrated and focused on it, it was he who actually spotted the dark brooding bulk of the chateau in front of them.

"There." He croaked, pointing frantically and nearly smacking Glorfindel upside the head in the process.

Haldir bit back a bark of laughter at the aggrieved look on the Balrog Slayer's face, but said nothing. His grey eyes glittered with anticipation of perhaps a good fight. He was an archetypal warrior and he was looking forward to releasing some of the tension by having another good fight with someone.

_Anyone _would do.

The car abruptly swept onto a wide, rough, weed choked gravel driveway that circled around and swept up to the front facade of the building; so abruptly that Thranduil had to brake and swerve in order to avoid the ornamental fountain in the middle of the circular parking area.

Broad, deep steps led up to the massive oak front doors and, in typical horror movie style, on either side of the doors two braziers burned brightly, illuminating the front of what had once been a stunningly beautiful building, the summer home of a French aristocrat. Close enough to the coast to allow travel to the large fashionable coastal resorts, but far enough inland to allow total privacy for the estate.

One of the huge doors was open and standing in the doorway was a thin, almost cadaverous looking elderly man holding a flickering lantern aloft.

"_Hello._.." Thranduil's voice was filled with laughter and heavy with a mock Transylvanian accent. "Velcome to Castle Draacula."

ooOoo

**Chateau Villefranche, one hour later....**

Maksim sat quietly in one corner of the large salon in the Chateau that belonged to the Marseilles coven. In another corner sat the human housekeeper of the Chateau and his wife, who spent her time alternately dabbing her red-rimmed eyes with a corner of her apron and staring in awestruck silence at the tall beautiful creatures who were quietly discussing the situation they all found themselves in. So far nobody had mentioned how the battle in Marseilles had turned out, but the fact that Celebrian's husband and his companions were actually there told Maksim that events had obviously gone in their favour.

Celebrian was earnestly speaking in that mellifluous language of theirs, occasionally interrupted by comments by her husband and who threw stern and accusing looks across the room at the vampire. Maksim managed to find some sort of dry humour in the fact that Master Elrond was apparently jealous that his wife appeared to be defending her erstwhile captor quite vehemently.

The other three male Elves were seated casually on antique Louis the Fourteenth chairs which had seen better days, patiently waiting for husband and wife to finish their discussion. Maksim, now able to observe them at close quarters, saw that they were all very tall, all were beautiful in the way of their kind, but it was clear that the taller and most imposing looking of the three, a broad shouldered, slim hipped elf with a glorious mass of guinea gold hair and piercing green eyes was the leader of the small group. Maksim assessed him as a very dangerous man to cross. Every now and again he sent that piercing gaze across the room at Maksim, but there was no anger, hatred or fear in the gaze, it was merely speculative and not a little bit amused.

The elf beside him had an equally golden mass of hair, but his eyes were the blue of a summer sky in Southern France. He was slimmer in figure, but Maksim sensed great power in him. A latent power granted, but it was there. The glow that surrounded all of them was more intense in him somehow and his was the only name Maksim had caught... Glorfindel.

The fourth member of the group was a warrior, that was obvious from the beginning. He was beautiful without a doubt, but there was an overt masculinity in him that spoke of discipline. This elf was a valued subordinate, yet there was little subordinate in his looks. Long pale, almost silver hair was tied neatly back with braids behind ears that were clearly delicately pointed. His shoulders were broad and he looked immensely capable. He did not give Maksim anything other than a grim cursory glance and kept his attention on Celebrian and her husband, but Maksim knew that the elf was also watching him with all the wariness of his honed warrior instincts. The vampire did not blame him, he would have done the same in that situation.

Maksim intimated from her attitude towards him and his towards her that this elf considered himself Celebrian's protector. There was clearly an acquaintance of long standing between them.

Celebrian's husband was every bit as tall as the others, but where they had a dramatic golden beauty that lit up the room, Master Elrond's strength lay in the calm of his demeanour...or rather the calm that Maksim detected lay under the surface. On the surface at that moment in time he was all flashing grey eyes and passionately gesticulating hand movements, more often than not aimed in Maksim's direction. The hair that tumbled around his shoulders was as dark as the night and Maksim thought that perhaps there was more than a tinge of human in him. There was just something about the set of his features and the definition of his musculature which seemed slightly heavier than his companions.

_Yes,_ thought Maksim, _Celebrian's husband definitely had mortal blood in him...and something else that was quite indefinable. _

The tall formidable being whose presence he had sensed and who he had mentally termed an angel was not with them and Maksim felt a sense of real disappointment at that. He would have liked to meet a real angel, even if he _couldn't _have borne to look him in the eye.

Whatever his ultimate fate, Maksim was now calmly resigned to it. He would not run, he would face it with whatever remnants of dignity were left to him. Yes, he had taken life, and deep inside there was enough morality left in him to know that this could not go unpunished, however he had not plunged into the depths of depravity as many of his kind had done. He would face his maker calmly and accept whatever punishment was bound to come.

He gazed out of the storm-lashed windows; the power had gone out at the very start of the storm and the room was illuminated by candlelight and the glow from a fire in grate that the housekeeper had lit when he and Celebrian had arrived, bone-weary, on the doorstep looking for refuge. The elderly housekeeper glanced over at him and then lowered his gaze slightly as Maksim turned to look in his direction. Maksim sighed. This could all take a while, but with the elements raging outside none of them were going anywhere in a hurry anyway so he signed to the housekeeper to serve wine to the new guests.

ooOoo

Thranduil Oropherion was not an elf with the greatest amount of patience, a characteristic he had inherited from his father Oropher, although his was tempered with the more calmer attributes of his mother and it was running out fast with the Peredhil. He accepted a glass of fortifying Madeira wine from the elderly manservant with a slight smile and a nod and took a sip. He sighed as the rich sweet wine rolled around his palate. This was wonderful and old, Eru only knew how old it was in reality, it could have been laid down before the French Revolution even.

A glance at Haldir and Glorfindel told him that both of them were equally appreciative. Glorfindel obviously had more patience with Elrond and Celebrian and so he should have, he had served them for long enough. Haldir, like all warriors, had patience in bucket loads when he chose to have it and apart from a mild interest in the argument raging, he remained quiet, occasionally sipping the wine and occasionally staring into the flames burning in the grate.

The vampire, Maksim as Celebrian had introduced him, remained calm and aloof on the other side of the salon. He too had a glass of wine, or what looked like a glass of wine, it had a deep dark colour and Thranduil came to the conclusion that it was most probably blood. Maksim made no move to escape perhaps because he knew how futile his actions would be...or perhaps he simply didn't want to. Thranduil couldn't work out which.

For the love of Eru, would Elrond never stop his incessant questioning? It was clear that Celebrian had told him, and them, everything. The vampire could have left her behind for the Lycans, but he didn't. Instead he had stopped and taken her with him. If he had any ulterior motive or plan to take her to this Herumor, then he certainly went a strange way about it.

There was also the conversation Thranduil had with the Herald before he went back to England with Elladan. Eönwë had been quite clear about what he wanted; the vampire was to be brought to England, either with Thranduil and the others or he would send people for him. By people Thranduil suspected that he meant Maiar warriors. The vampire's willingness to fall in with that plan would indicate whether he travelled with the Elves or under Maiar guard and would much depend on his demeanour when Thranduil and the others caught up with him and Celebrian. So far, Thranduil didn't feel they would have any trouble with him. Eönwë had also made it clear that he wished Celebrian to return with Haldir as her escort as soon as possible. Thranduil had no desire to even _try _and convince the now flinty-eyed Celebrian of that course of action.

The discussion had now turned full circle for the fourth time and Elrond showed no signs of abating the flow, but the Elven King could clearly see what Elrond was apparently incapable of seeing, the sudden dark circles of weariness under Celebrian's eyes and the fact that she was groping behind her for a chair to sink down into. He was about to do the gentlemanly thing and guide her to one, when the vampire appeared at her elbow taking all of them by surprise at the speed of his movement.

Elrond glared at him, Haldir immediately reached for a non-existent knife or bow and Glorfindel rose to his feet. Only Thranduil remained calm as Celebrian gave Maksim a smile of gratitude and accepted the chair the vampire pushed behind her. She sank down and hung her silver head in exhaustion, Maksim turned to Elrond and gave him a bow.

"Master Elrond, I fully understand your desire to ensure your lady wife is well and unharmed, but she is exhausted. Can you not let her rest a while? Let me instruct Marcus, the manservant and his wife to bring food for you all. The storm will rage now until morning, this house is protected against incursions by incantations and spells. Nobody can pass the threshold. All who can rest should rest."

Maksim's voice was quiet and respectful and somehow this filtered through to the distracted Peredhil. All of the fight went out of him and he sagged slightly. Glorfindel moved forward quickly and led Elrond to a chair. All was silent for a long moment and Thranduil opened his mouth to speak only to be stopped by Elrond who spoke directly to Maksim.

"I should offer you my gratitude for my wife's life." He said wearily passing a hand over his grey eyes. "Instead I have berated her. You were right to to stop me, but you must know that we cannot let you go free."

Maksim bowed slightly to all of them. "Of course not, neither would I expect it. In any case I have nowhere to go, I have outrun all of my options. I cannot return to the Marseilles coven now. No doubt they will have flown to four corners of Europe by now, since no doubt Herumor will know of the battle that was waged. He will send people there to exact his revenge in some way. I cannot return to my own people, they are lost to him now and he seeks my destruction." He held his hands out in something close to a gesture of despair. "I am in your hands, do what you will with me."

Thranduil stepped in at that. "My orders from Lord Eönwë are that you are to accompany us back to England, willingly if possible, if not, then he will send people for you."

"Lord Eönwë is the being of of the Powers of Light who was in Marseilles with you?" Maksim said slowly and Thranduil nodded. "What we would probably call an angel. I guess that those he would send if I did not go willingly are angelic warriors."

Glorfindel nodded. "Indeed, although we call them Maiar and they are formidable indeed."

There was a hint of a smile on Maksim's face. "As much as I would wish to meet such beings, I think I will come willingly with you. In any event, it seems I would have no choice." He stood up, divested himself of the weapons he carried including the long knife and handed them to Thranduil. "You will want these...as a gesture of goodwill and intent on my part."

Celebrian looked up and smiled at him encouragingly. Thranduil accepted the weapons and handed them to Haldir who put them on the table beside him.

"You all need to eat." Maksim went over and spoke in French to the manservant and his wife who left with alacrity to prepare hot food and set the large dining table. "They will let us know when the food is ready. Until then I suggest you rest a little."

"You do not rest?" Haldir spoke to him for the first time, not without some suspicion in his tone.

Maksim managed a grim smile. "These are the night hours, the time when vampires are awake. Contrary to popular modern belief we can move in the daylight hours, but we prefer not to. Exposure to the sun can be both painful and lethal to us if we are not protected."

Haldir turned to Thranduil with a determined look in his grey eyes. "One of us must remain on guard while the others rest. I will take the first watch and I can wake you when the food is ready." He said firmly.

"Agreed." Thranduil replied. He turned to Maksim. "No offense, but we need to protect ourselves."

Maksim shrugged, this was nothing more than he expected. "None taken, I would do the same in your shoes." He sat back down on his chair in the corner by the window and seemed to enter some sort of meditative state.

Elrond helped Celebrian to one of the longer sofas. She lay down thankfully and smiled at Glorfindel when he brought his long coat which Elrond tenderly laid over her. The others settled down to rest in front of the fire and Maksim let the soft delightful sounds of their melodic voices and language wash over him.

Haldir sat beside the fire, but in a position where he could easily watch the room and the vampire, his hand hovered across the gun Thranduil had given him.

ooOoo

**Angband Enterprises, Paris Headquarters**

"Twice...._twice _you have let them best you." Herumor's voice was a cracked and terrifying whisper and the Lycan chieftain trembled where he stood at the sight of that loathsome creature who was currently incandescent with rage. "It seems that I am beset with incompetence _wherever_ I turn. Perhaps I must now call upon others to do the work you cannot do."

The Lycan shuddered as Herumor brought his death's head close until all he could see were Herumor's ghastly features. His will and courage drained out of him as he waited for the death blow, but it never came. Instead Herumor suddenly straightened up.

"Begone." He hissed. "Out of my sight, as much it would give me pleasure to watch you torn limb from limb, I still have need of your kind. I will call upon you later once I have summoned those who you _will_ obey without question and under their leadership, the Lycans will learn the true nature of obedience."

The Lycan turned and loped from the room, thankful to still be alive, but wondering what on this benighted earth could be so terrible that even Herumor respected them.

ooOoo

**The Great St Bernard Pass tunnel, Switzerland side**

Xavier du Pree trembled with excitement as he stood next to the top flight demolitions team who had set charges to widen an opening that had appeared in the wall of the tunnel known as the Great St Bernard Pass. Behind that wall lay something exciting, Xavier could feel it in his bones. The only thing that concerned him was the amount of damage the demolition team might do to whatever was lying there and must have lain there for possible millennia, but these people were the best at their job, all he had to do was contain his excitement. An excitement shared by all of the archaeological team assembled there from across the world.

They all stood at the prescribed distance from the tunnel and the backwash of the explosion. There was a real chance that the whole tunnel could just fall in. The men laying the charges exited the tunnel onto the highway leading up to and through it and made for safe cover. Xavier saw one give the thumbs up to the man pushing the detonator. Silence reigned for a few moments and then the man with the detonator shouted.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!"

Nothing appeared to happen for a few seconds and then there was a gentle trembling under their feet, almost like the ground was rippling like pond whose waters have been disturbed by a tiny pebble. A large puff of dust shot out of the tunnel entrance and the shock waves of the muffled explosion rippled outwards under their feet, now much stronger and then gradually lessening until everything was still. The mouth of the tunnel still gaped wide with only a few plumes of dust drifting down over it. Beyond was all Stygian darkness.

And deep down in the depths of a place that had not seen living eyes for many thousands of years something started.

......

_Tom tap, tap tom, tom tap, tap tap tom._

ooOoo


	26. Ignorance is bliss

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Again I apologise for the delay, Things are looking up a little and the year is coming to a close. Not before time for me as this has been the worst year I have lived through by far. My youngest son has a scan in a couple of weeks for his headaches and all I can do is hope that there is nothing serious wrong with him.

I thought I would have to deal with the battle between our heroes and the werewolves in London and so I have done. Read and enjoy if such is your wont. Thanks to those who reviewed again.

" And it is not always good to be healed in body. Nor is it always evil to die in battle, even in bitter pain. Were I permitted, in this dark hour I would choose the latter." "

___**J R R Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 26 – Ignorance is Bliss**

**Chateau Villefranche, early hours of the morning**

Thranduil rose silently from his recumbent position on the spindly legged sofa even as Haldir tapped him on his shoulder indicating that his watch was finished and the former Elven King's had begun. He made his way over to Haldir's former position in a chair by the large fireplace and gently stirred the glowing coals in the grate up to dancing flames with the heavy iron poker. Once the flames were crackling, he then put two more logs on the fire and opened the chimney vent to allow the smoke from the fresh wood to escape through the chimney.

He felt rather than saw the vampire's gaze on him but did not turn around to meet it. Elrond was half sitting up in a doze on the long sofa and Celebrian reclined against him, her hand cupped around the side of her face as she slept soundly with her eyes closed thereby indicating to Thranduil her level of exhaustion.

Glorfindel lounged in another chair, long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. His Indiana Jones leather hat was perched over his face, with his golden mane of hair tumbling around his shoulders. To all intents and purposes he was asleep, but Thranduil suspected that the Balrog Slayer was every bit as alert as the person on watch was. His duty of care towards Elrond and his family had reasserted itself immediately on landing in modern Middle-earth and it was a duty he took most seriously.

Haldir settled himself onto Thranduil's couch with a sigh and with the effortless ability of the warrior to take rest wherever and whenever he could, his eyes glazed over as his mind slid onto the Path of Dreams.

Thranduil stretched his legs toward the blaze in the fireplace and allowed his thoughts to wander even as his inner senses remained alert to any possible dangers.

His mind strayed, as ever it had from time immemorial, to his wife, the mother of Legolas. Many yeni had passed since he had lost her to death in the murky black depths of what had once been a beautiful green and verdant forest. Yet despite the passing of time, the hideous memory of that day stood out in his mind and the deep searing pain of his loss plowed its way into the front of his consciousness and caused him to draw in a breath with a hiss. The vampire's gaze narrowed slightly at the sound of the hissed indrawn breath, but when Thranduil's cool emerald eyes finally met his, he looked away out of the windows rather than see the pain in them.

Thranduil's son had sailed into the West long ago and had not done so _without_ much pleading to his father to sail with him and the Naugrim Gimli; but Thranduil could not leave Middle-earth, not while the houseless spirit of his wife and the mother of his child still wandered it. He had never told Legolas of course; he had never found the strength to tell him that his mother had not heeded the call of the Lord of Mandos and was not, as Legolas mistakenly believed, residing in the Halls awaiting rebirth.

Thranduil shook off yet another frisson of guilt at this omission. The voice of his conscience burst into action and scolded him yet again for not being honest with his only child. He had just kept telling himself that he had no _proof t_hat she had not heeded the call, but deep inside, he knew. She had not left, he had felt her everywhere he went and in every part of the forests she had once loved. It tortured him and it was why he felt that overwhelming need to remain where they had been happiest. Only the influx of modern man into the much-changed new forests after the ice age and his subsequent forced migration to the cities of men had finally dragged him away and only then had the feelings of her ghostly presence began to fade. He had eventually accepted his loss and understood that he was alone.

He always suspected that Galadriel _knew_ that his wife had not heeded the call of Mandos; even though they had spent a great deal of time at loggerheads, there was always a touch of sympathy in her cool gaze when they met. At the time that touch of sympathy had always managed to rouse him swiftly to helpless rage and he could never fully understand why he felt that way. He knew to everyone else that it just seemed that he and Galadriel disliked each other, but it wasn't that at all. She knew and he knew, but the naked pain in him would not allow him to seek comfort from their shared knowledge, so instead he held her at arm's length all the time.

It had been far easier to be angry with her than accept her sympathy.

Watching Elrond and Celebrian lightly clasping each other, he felt a sudden stab of envy and distress at the thought that his wife had preferred to become houseless in Middle-earth rather than go to the Halls and eventually be reunited with her husband and son. It felt like the ultimate betrayal of their love and their bonding to him. At first he had mourned his loss deeply and that sadness had lasted many millennia.

Now the whole thing just left a sour taste in his mouth.

However with the coming of the Herald and the others from Valinor, Thranduil was beginning to believe that perhaps there _was_ a place for him in the West after all, even though he would not be reunited with his beloved. His son had children and even grandchildren and great grandchildren. Thranduil had generations of his family over in Valinor that he had never even met.

Maybe it _was_ time to heed the call of the West, he mused. Once they were done here, he would go there. After all, home was where the heart was, wasn't it? And Thranduil's heart rested now with his son.

There was only one problem. Instead of fading, as all of the Eldar were meant to do in the Age of Men, Thranduil had been blessed, or cursed depending on how one looked at it, with the extraordinary ability to survive and flourish in their world. More than any here in that room, with the exception of Maksim, he was accomplished in every modern aspect of this world. He had survived against all odds, he and Maglor both. Even Celeborn and his grandsons had eventually heeded the siren call of the Western shores.

So exactly _what_ kind of place was there in Valinor for a thoroughly modern Elf?

ooOoo

**London**

Thranduil wasn't the only one contemplating the past and a future in the west. In the brief lull before battle was joined Maedhros found himself watching the woman called Jan. Was she really 'gay' as Maglor had gently suggested to him with a half smile on his lips. Gay to Maedhros meant happy and cheerful, something he had rarely been allowed to be either in childhood or later on in life given the driven, fiery nature of his father. Maglor's smile had grown wider at the sight of his brother's utter confusion over the terminology and he had gently explained to a disbelieving Maedhros just exactly what the word gay meant in these times.

Maedhros found himself both repelled and fascinated by the idea of two women bonding in the way that ellyn and ellyth did among the Eldar. Was this some sort of Secondborn perversion, he wondered out loud to Maglor, who had smiled gently at him.

"Not a perversion." His brother had whispered back. "Just a different way of living and choosing a life mate. The Secondborn have no need to perpetuate the species in this day and age, therefore more choices and other choices are available to them. Who knows what the heart seeks or where it seeks it?"

Maedhros found himself thinking about choices. What choices had he or his brothers had for a happy normal life with the ellith of their choice? Feanor had taken that away and their fate was sealed the moment Melkor had slain Grandfather Finwe and taken those damned jewels. Was there really a place in the west for him even if he made reparation for his crimes? He felt so alien among his own kind now. Would it not just be better to stay here and throw his lot in with the Secondborn?

He stared over at Jan. From the moment of their meeting he had felt a connection. He wasn't yet sure what the connection actually was but even though she had this strange inexplicable desire for her own gender, he was sure that she had also felt it and was not averse to it.

And indeed, who was he to sit in judgment on anyone? He, whose hands were stained with the blood of his own kind.

Jan felt the Elf's intense gaze on her and shivered slightly. She smiled hesitantly at him and was rewarded by his finely-shaped sculpted lips lifting up in a half smile in return, she had no idea of the turmoil going on behind those intense green eyes of his, if she had, she might have been angry, resigned to judgment or even sad. Explaining to him about bi-sexuality would have probably completely confused him, but although her recent partners had all been female, she felt a definite, strong, almost magnetic attraction and pull to the beautiful, but supremely masculine red-haired Maedhros. In fact the pull was so strong it had taken her completely by surprise.

She was so intent on examining her own feelings that she almost missed the quiet but firm command given by the Brigadier to 'stand to', only Finrod nudging her gently made her ready her weapon and concentrate her attention on the door.

If everything went badly, then it was all a moot point anyway. They could all just end up as dinner for a bunch of werewolves.

All around her a power such as she had never experienced before thrummed and throbbed and as she heard the first snarls just outside, she was astonished to see that the beings around her had shed whatever normality they may have shared with the humans of Middle-earth. They now all, without exception, glowed with an unearthly, other-worldly incandescent light as Maia and Eldar were finally revealed in their wrath as beings of immense power and purity. She felt her mouth drop open in awe.

The Brigadier, Finrod, Maedhros and Maglor moved forward as one as the massive furred bodies of their adversaries burst through glass and splintered wood, massive claws unsheathed and red mouths slavering around sharp huge teeth. A moment later Jan and the others felt a shift in the intensity of the atmosphere. Another moment later and she saw the one called Erestor slip inside the room from the fire exit like a wraith, along with the business-like SAS trooper.

A brief glance between Eönwë and Erestor told the Herald that their role in taking out the magus had been successful. The barrier and glamour around the building still held, but it would eventually wear off as the power supplied to it gradually waned with the demise of the supplier.

It was Eönwë who met the first hideous creature head on, but he knew that the Elves, Jim and Chief weren't far behind him. In one wide, swift arc the Herald beheaded three of the creatures in one go with his huge shining sword, but even as they fell to the ground, more of the beasts surged through the doorway to take their place.

Jan's mouth had gone completely dry. She was aware of Alun Davies beside her firing his gun rapidly and steadily at the tidal wave of snarling, fanged fur which hurled itself at them. Even DCS Whelan was firing determinedly from his position. Her fingers were slippery with sweat which meant that getting a purchase on the safety catch was difficult. She finally managed to achieve that and cocked the weapon only for it to overheat and jam after the first few rounds were fired.

A particularly large Lycan with matted red-hued fur reared up in front of her and she was shocked by the look of mean intelligence in the yellow eyes which lit up in triumph when it realised that she was having trouble with the weapon. Panic hit her gut like a ten ton truck and she felt hot from the top of her head to the tip of her toes when she realised that she was only inches and seconds away from a gory death. She cringed back and tried not to look at the death foaming and dribbling its way to her.

However, the blow never fell and when she ventured to look up she saw Jim grinning maniacally at her, his sword was dripping with gore and blood and the Lycan was lying dead at her feet, practically hewn in two. He handed her a lighter looking white handled long knife.

"Take this." He shouted above the din of battle. "Knives don't jam and they kill just as easily."

She took the knife and hefted it, Immediately liking the way it was balanced so beautifully. It felt like it was made for her.

She grinned back at him. "Thanks, this'll do me."

"Don't thank me, it belongs to Maedhros over there. He thought you might find it more satisfying to fight hand to hand."

Jim whirled back into the fray with a battle whoop that made both Erestor and Maglor burst out laughing even as they performed their deadly dance of death. As he did so, Jan caught sight of Maedhros who had stopped momentarily, one hand around the throat of a smallish Lycan with black fur and the other poised to drive his knife into its gut, he winked at her and gestured for her to join him. The knife and the invitation ignited her latent warrior blood and she jumped up and flung herself into the melee.

From then on all became a blur to her. The tall shining figure of the Brigadier led the way. He was a superb, consummate warrior, his lithe, tall strong form wove between the Lycans and he left a pile of dead in his wake. The Elves showed their true feral and awesome nature in battle as they cut down swathe after swathe of Lycan until the office was littered with a heap of bloody body parts. Finrod looked like a shining silver avenging angel with fell and cold silvery blue eyes.

The two SAS troopers who were not with Jeff in the smaller office had long since given up firing and were efficiently dispatching their attackers with their custom made sharp knives which were decidedly not standard military issue. Jan, Jim and the Chief just hacked and slashed indiscriminately at anything with fur and fangs.

But there came a time when it was obvious that either the Lycans had run out of numbers or probably more to the point had been ordered to withdraw from a battle they could not possibly win. The Brigadier held up his hand and everyone stopped dead in their tracks. His head was cocked on one side and he appeared to be listening intently. Everyone fell silent and after a long moment he looked up and smiled.

"It is over." He said quietly. "They have been ordered to retreat." He turned to DCS Whelan and inclined his head courteously to the senior police officer. "We must secure the building now and see to any wounded."

DCS Whelan nodded dumbly. He felt numb from head to foot. All around him dead bodies were littered, but the shocking thing was not so much that they were surrounded by carnage, but that each of the Lycans who had died were now reverting back to human form. For Phelan, unused to such things in his daily life, the sight of the broken human forms, many headless, some literally just hacked to pieces, was shocking beyond belief. He felt the bile rise up from his stomach and literally just prevented himself from hurling by the skin of his teeth.

He sank onto one of the few remaining unbroken chairs and swallowed frantically to try and get his rebellious stomach under control. The Brigadier was, in the meantime, quietly and efficiently directing sweep up operations, assigning small teams to go out around the building to assess damage and clean up any remaining Lycans, if there were any.

Phelan felt faint and dizzy and the room was spinning in a most alarming way. Finally the Brigadier came to him and handed him a plastic cup of water from the water machine which had, miraculously, escaped unharmed.

"Drink slowly." He advised gently, folding Phelan's nerveless fingers around the cup and guiding it to his lips.

Phelan sipped the cold water gratefully and eventually managed a nod of thanks to the Brigadier whose concern showed clearly in those bright ageless eyes of his.

"Thanks." He whispered. "I...I think I'll be okay now. I've just never...." He gestured helplessly towards the broken bodies and his voice trailed off; speech and shock had dulled him to the point of being practically unable to function verbally.

Eönwë smiled at him. "Such battles are always hard first time around. You did well and we have no real casualties either. Just a few scratches."

"I stubbed my toe." Jim was heard to complain vociferously in the background, whereupon he was immediately told to stop bloody whining by the Chief amidst laughter from the others.

"It's...it's just that... well...they are humans." Phelan said, his face carried a ghastly hue.

"Not quite." Eönwë said gently. "They _were_ humans, but now they are different. They were made different many many eons ago. What you...we...killed here tonight was not human, despite what you see here now. This is how they have lived to advantage and survived in modern society, by knowing that the human beings they live amongst do not recognise what they actually are. This is how they have grown in such numbers. Belief in such things has been eradicated among modern humans and this they use to great advantage."

Phelan put the cup of water down on the desk and examined his trembling hands. After a few moments he looked up at the Herald. "I suppose I can't ever rejoin the ranks of those for whom ignorance is bliss where 'tis folly to be wise again."

There was a tinge of bitterness and regret in his voice and Eönwë said nothing, for what could he have said that would console for loss of innocence, security and comfort? Now the policeman had proof that the wolf actually _was_ snarling at the door.

Phelan made to stand up but found that his legs had turned to jelly. Eönwë offered him a strong hand which he accepted gratefully. As the Herald steadied him on his feet he looked around at the carnage and shook his head in disbelief.

"I have _no_ idea what the office cleaners will say when they see this lot."

ooOoo


	27. The Face of Bureaucracy

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Christmas is here again. What happened to the year? I am, for one, glad it is nearly over. It's been a nasty one. So here is another chapter for those readers that I still have and perhaps I might tempt a few new readers in as well. Eönwë is falling foul of the bureaucracy, selfishness and economic nightmare that is the modern world of Middle-earth. Well it was bound to happen. You can't just run around chasing vampires and werewolves and hope that the authorities will turn a blind eye. In a way this chapter is an interlude while the characters re-arrange themselves again.

Thank you to Amebane who reviewed the last chapter.

" If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world. "

___**J R R Tolkien**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 27– The Face of Bureaucracy**

**Residence of Brigadier Gary and Kim Matthews, Hampshire UK**

Eönwë thrust his front door open with such impact that it rattled on its hinges and nearly smacked the wall. He threw his peaked cap onto the sideboard that stood in the hallway and strode, without stopping, down through into the kitchen and out of the back door into the garden at the rear of his house. He did not stop until he reached the ornamental gazebo where he threw himself down on one of the chairs. His face was as near to a mask of fury that a Maia could manage.

Once Erestor had recovered from the whirlwind that had just passed through the kitchen, he followed the Herald out and was about to ask if anything was wrong, when Eönwë suddenly sat forward and rested his head in his hands in an attitude of despair. Erestor took a step back so that he was partly hidden from sight behind a large rhododendron bush. He watched as Eönwë sat back again and dragged his fingers distractedly through his already very short hair.

The Elf thought about a nice restorative pot of tea, but then decided that perhaps something stronger was in order. He turned to go back into the kitchen to get the decanter of a brandy and a glass and nearly jumped out of his skin when he realised that Nerdanel was standing right behind him, her gaze also on the Herald.

"Something is troubling him greatly." She said softly.

Erestor privately thought that this had to be the understatement of the century, but said nothing to that effect. He merely smiled at her. "I was thinking about taking him some brandy."

Nerdanel flashed him the ghost of a smile and reached into one of the pockets of her simple gown. Erestor's eyes lit up as she produced a small silver flask of miruvor and handed it to him with another, slightly broader, smile.

"Lord Celeborn gave it to me before I left for Middle-earth. He thought that we might have need of something called a 'pick me up'."

Erestor gurgled with laughter. "It sounds exactly like the kind of thing he _would_ do, bless him."

Even as Nerdanel inclined her head and drifted back towards the house, Erestor was already down the path and standing before the Herald who looked up with bruised eyes which held both an expression of anger and sadness.

"What is it Erestor?" He sounded tired out and Erestor's heart went out to him. He produced the miruvor and silently offered it to the Herald who accepted it somewhat bemusedly.

"It's miruvor." Erestor said quietly, as though there was no need at all to explain what miruvor was.

The bemused expression cleared and Erestor was rewarded with a smile. "Ah, yes, the famous recuperative cordial of Imladris." He unstopped the small flask and waved it under his nose before taking a sip. "As a Maia normally I would not require such a thing." He commented ruefully. "But it's been a bitch of a day."

After taking a few sips of the cordial, he handed the flask back to Erestor who took it and sat down. "Do you wish to speak of it?"

Eönwë sighed. "To tell the truth I have no idea where to start even. I was called up to London to the offices of MI5 for a very important meeting and the whole day went downhill from there." He stretched his legs out in front of him and clasped his hands loosely behind his head. "I truly don't know what I am actually doing here any more. I do not think I am equipped to deal with the modern mindset at all." He stood up abruptly and paced around the small gazebo. "This is a violent, lawless world Erestor."

"It was never a safe place to be my Lord." Erestor replied quietly.

Eönwë shook his head. "You do not even know the half of it my friend. Yes, this was a place of violence in the beginning because that was how Melkor had poisoned it. The Noldor did not help matters although to their credit they did much to make amends later on but that is not the lawlessness and violence I am talking about. At least then there was an enemy that we could all see. Yes they were evil and brutal, but you knew where your enemy was, what they looked like and what they were. Now, apart from Kim and those of you from the West, I am not sure who my enemies are any more. People I thought would have been on the side of good either sit in the middle or pretend they are on our side when in fact they are playing both ends against the middle."

Erestor didn't even pretend to understand what the Herald was talking about and Eönwë could see the lack of comprehension in the Elf's dark eyes.

"Never mind." He said softly. "I do not wish to sully your understanding with such things. Do you know where my wife is?"

"I'm here sweetheart." Both Maia and Elf looked up to see Kim smiling down at her husband. Allie was sitting on her hip. She handed the child to Erestor. "Would you take her please Erestor? I was going to put her in the bath. She got a bit dirty helping me and Hal do some weeding."

Erestor immediately stood up and held his arms out for Allie. "Of course." He beamed. "Always a delight and Maedhros is not back from London yet, so I have her _all_ to myself for a change."

As soon as Erestor had left, cooing at Allie who was busy putting very nice small brown hand prints on the back of his robes, Kim bent down and kissed her husband tenderly. In answer he reached up and pulled her down onto his knee. The kiss deepened and Kim wisely, for the moment, did not stop it to ask why Eönwë was so troubled. He would tell her in his own good time, but that didn't stop her from being very concerned about the despair she sensed in him.

"I should have cuddled Allie." He said abruptly in her ear after the kiss had ended. "I was so angry I forgot to give her a cuddle."

She put a gentle finger against his lips. "Hush, she will forgive you. Already has in fact. Allie understands more than anyone that something is wrong. How do you think I knew? She told me to come and find you, so here I am. Do you want to talk about it?"

Eönwë heaved another angry sigh. "They told me to back off. In no uncertain terms. I am to stop my 'vendetta' against Angband Enterprises and it's CEO _Lord _Herumor. Apparently my interference is going to spoil important and crucial business deals and wreck their wretched economy. An economy built on dirty money and evil personified. They weren't interested in what they called 'nothing but a terrorist attack on unspecified individuals'. They laughed at the notion of werewolves, vampires and evil, calling it nothing but movie fiction." He stood up and stared across the garden. The late afternoon sun was starting to fade and the shadows were beginning to lengthen. He turned back to Kim and she could see the rage sparkling in his eyes. "I cannot deal with these people Kim, I am not _equipped_ to deal with them. They are stupid and ignorant. They welcome the likes of Herumor and do not even care what a hideous viper they are nursing to their bosoms as long as their pay out is large. They care not whether the people of this benighted world are safe to live their lives. The blood of Numenor and the line of Elessar is truly spent at last. These mortals have no honour, no sense of right or wrong. They know the price of everything and the value of _nothing_. How could Eru _think_ that I could make a difference amongst all of this greed and apathy? "

His beautiful voice was cracked with despair, anger and the futility of his task and the sound of it nearly broke Kim's heart.

"He didn't."

Eönwë stared down at his wife in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... he didn't think _you_ could make a difference." Kim replied quietly. "He thought that _Gary_ could make a difference. You aren't Gary, um...at least you _are_...but only part of you is."

"I do not understand." Eönwë sat back down in his chair and gazed at his wife.

Kim smiled at him. "I know you don't, because the part of you that _can _deal with these people has been buried deep inside the Herald of Manwe. How often do you hear Gary's thoughts and memories inside you these days? I mean the way you used to back in the War of Wrath?"

Eönwë reached inside himself and realised what she was saying. "I..."

His voice trailed off uncertainly. She was correct. Gary's voice had been quiet of late and he had assumed it was because he was now completely assimilated with the Herald.

"Thought so." Kim smiled at him. "The part of you that _knows_ how to deal with modern humans and the awful, selfish, self interested and cruel society we have created for ourselves has been quiet. You have to remember that Gary was _born_ into mortal society albeit with your soul inside him. It was how Eru intended for him to help make a difference. He grew up never knowing what he actually was. He was never meant to remember, at least not in the way he did. You belong to a different world, but up till now you have managed to act as yourself with only minimal help from Gary's memories of growing up. Unfortunately now you are finding that you have to play with the nasty Big Boys and beat them at their own game. And believe me in many ways they are actually _much_ nastier than an Orc or even a Balrog. At least with them they were so bloody evil you knew _exactly_ what you were facing. The people in this modern version of Middle-earth wear a normal face on top of their evil one and pretend to be good. The attributes of a Maia are only marginally necessary or useful to fight the people in power on their terms. To understand them and fight them with their own weapons _and _beat them you need to _become _Gary Matthews again, not just _play _at being him. The way to understand them and then fight them is locked inside you." She leaned forward and tapped his chest gently.

Eönwë's eyes lit up and he took her into his arms, breathing in the scent of her hair and delighting in it and the feel of her against him. "When did you get to be so wise my Kim?" He whispered, trailing his lips down her neck.

"Meh...what can I say? It just happened." He heard her giggle and echoed her laughter. "But with Allie occupied and Hal and the others entertaining each other, we have at least two hours before dinner. We could go up and make love and I could pretend you were two different people...ow!!" She glared at her husband who had just smacked her bottom. "That hurt!"

Eönwë propelled her along the path and into the house via the French doors that led into the conservatory. "It was meant to, you naughty girl. You're only supposed to want me, your husband, not me and someone else."

"I don't think it's naughty, variety is the spice of life they say." She protested and gave a squeak as he pushed her into the bedroom and shut the door. "After all, Gary and you _are _the same person."

"That wasn't what _you_ just said..." The Herald's reply stopped abruptly as Kim caught hold of him by his arms and pulled him down on top of her.

Erestor stood at the bathroom door, an unseen witness to the scene, while Allie threw her bathroom toys around the water and drowned the yellow duck for the fourth time with an insane chortle. He shook his head and chuckled to himself and then sighed with exasperation as he turned back to the child and saw the lake that had appeared on the floor.

The shadow that had briefly fallen over the household lightened and he was glad.

ooOoo

**MI5 Headquarters London, after Brigadier Matthews had left the meeting at Thames House  
**

"How likely is he to do as he's told?"

A grey suited, grim faced man spoke to the General who stared at him intently, his dark eyes beetled under heavy grey eyebrows. The General didn't trust any of the people in this room as far as he could throw them and these were meant to be the good guys. The grey chappie was head of one of those faceless agencies set up by the Government to do their dirty work.

A more casually dressed young man sat on the opposite side of the table, he smiled often, but that smile rarely reached his eyes. The only other chair was occupied by an American woman in her mid-thirties, a typical ballbreaker type, who had said very little during the discussion with the handsome Brigadier, although a sharp feral interest had flickered in her eyes as they rested on his pleasing form. She had been introduced to them all at the beginning of the discussion as 'a representative of the CIA'.

To the General she looked as though she would have loved to devour the Brigadier starting from the feet up, and the air between them was thick with the covert sexual challenge she had thrown out to him. A challenge which Eönwë had calmly and pointedly ignored. That had not gone down well with her at all. She was not used to being rejected.

"Brigadier Matthews is a good man and a damn good soldier, rest assured he will do his duty."

There, let them make what they would of that. Eönwë's duty could actually cover a multitude of sins. He had neither avoided the question, nor had he really answered it directly.

If there was anything the General hated it was these faceless security services people. They didn't fight straight and honestly like a soldier in the field faced with a bona fide enemy. These people fought people just like them. Faceless, evil and murderous people who fought their secret underhand little wars using assassin's tools. There was nothing to set them aside from the average person out in the street and that was where their skills came into their own. It was their ability to blend into the multitudes and still do their damage that set them apart, in their own eyes at least. Everything to them was about lying by omission, disinformation or misinformation. They were so bloody twisted they probably had to screw their shoes on in the mornings.

He despised them, soldiers like Gary Matthews were worth a million of them any day of the week. Yet he had looked at the tall fearless Maia and felt great sorrow. Governments and security services no longer acted for the good of the people, if indeed they ever had. The world was a much more complicated place now than it would have been in Eönwë's days in what had once been a much more straightforward place. In those days Eönwë would have been feared as he revealed himself as a messenger directly from God, These days if he did that, someone from some government agency would lock him in a cell and do experiments on him until they found out what made him tick.

All he could do was play the game to the best of his ability and give Eönwë as much leeway as he possibly could until he developed the ability to play these creatures at their own game.

_It's time I retired. _He thought mournfully to himself as he got in his car. His driver shut the door and got in the front seat. The car pulled away smoothly from the Thames Embankment and he watched idly out of the window as crowds of human beings, London residents, visitors from other regions and foreign tourists ambled along the riverside. There were mothers with small children, businessmen hurrying about their business, tradesmen, school kids out on a school trip...these..._these _were the people at risk in this nasty little war that was creeping up on them like a black cloud. _These _were the people who had no defense against evil in whatever form and were reliant upon the security services and the Police to keep them safe.

And apparently the security services were too busy bedding the potential destroyer of the human race to be bothered about protecting anything.

This was going to be bad, very _very_ bad. Unlike those latter days in Middle-earth, there was no honourable army of Elves or good men on the horizon to save the world; the only thing that stood between the innocent and this awful thread was an angel, a few elves and some assorted humans. He had tried to remonstrate with his wife; send her to her sister's in Scotland, but she had steadfastly refused to leave him and go to safety.

"How long would it be safe?" That shrewd woman had asked. "No, I will stand and if necessary, I will die with you."

He sighed and pulled open the copy of the Guardian newspaper. He drew in a sharp breath and a tremor of something approaching unease passed over him, for there, in bold letters, was the headline:

"**Ancient underground city discovered deep in the Alps."**

ooOoo


	28. Reality Sucks

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Firstly, thank you to all who reviewed. I am always grateful and happy to receive comments or suggestions. Apologies for this long introduction, but the story arc is about to make a major diversion.

Yes, the way the modern world works is that eventually Eönwë and his merry band _would_ come right up against a complicated bureaucracy and the myriad of pointless and sometimes damaging rules that the population have allowed people in power to create for them in the name of democracy.

Whilst I am sure that Middle-earth and Valinor surely _would _have had their bureaucratic side, only human beings, who seem unable to settle disputes without bloodshed of some kind, could create a system whereby law and order on the surface is backed up by secret intelligence agencies commissioned by the various governments who do not, and never have, worked in the general population's best interests. Nothing in the world is straightforward any more, if ever it was. If people actively seek the kind of power that governs countries, then it seems to me that they are actually the very _last_ people who should be given it.

It also seems credible to me that a creature of darkness such as Herumor would use such a covert system of law and order to his own ends. I thought of Eönwë's conundrum as a direct turnaround from the last time he was sent to earth to fix things in the War of Wrath. Then, he had a shining army and arrived amid trumpet fanfares and a show of might. This time, he is one person with a motley assortment of people. He doesn't _have_ an army, he is just one of many soldiers _in_ an army. The Elves no longer hold sway in Middle-earth, nor do they have influence and Elendil's bloodline is virtually non existent.

Herumor is the one with the money and therefore the position of power in an economy and wealth ruled world and because of this, he has governments and the rich on his side, and we all know that governments and the people with the money don't really have the health and wellbeing of the poorer members of society at heart. If they did, there would be no 'third World' countries at all.

So, will Eönwë and the others succeed in ridding the people of modern Middle-earth of the black cloud of disaster and war Herumor is busy casting over them? Or will he be a sacrificial lamb on the altar of money and power?

Stranger things have happened.

It must seem as though I have made a political point in this introduction to the next chapter, and I suppose I have, but in the spirit of reality, Eönwë would not, even as a senior officer in the British Army, have autonomy in his actions, even _with _the General partially sanctioning him. He can't go in there blazing with light, showing a skeptical modern human race who he actually is. He has to find another way. A more human way.

**For Ellfine: **The final section in the previous chapter was the direct aftermath of Eönwë's meeting with MI5 at Thames House, which is MI5's HQ, and who are part of the secret service. They are the face of the country's intelligence security service, but there are many more autonomous offshoots that people don't know about. All the intelligence services in the world, MI5, CIA, Mossad etc are all linked with each other. They share information, but sometimes they also work against each other, although they cover their tracks if they do. The conversation took place between the Intelligence operatives of those first three agencies and the General _after_ Eönwë was reprimanded for his actions and told to back off.

" You can only come to the morning through the shadows"

_**J R R Tolkien**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 28 – Reality Sucks**

**Residence of Brigadier Gary and Kim Matthews, Hampshire UK**

"They are still there." Maedhros answered Erestor's question before he even asked it.

The slender, dark haired Elf joined Maedhros at his watching post by the window. Despite the fact that Elves tended to have a natural light emanating from their skin, they had a remarkable ability to remain unseen if they wished to.

There outside in the lane, virtually unseen by human eyes from a distance, but clearly detected by keen Elven vision, was a plain, dark coloured car. Even by motoring standards it was an ordinary car, something any household might own and park there in the quiet tree-lined street Eönwë and Kim made their home in.

However the two men inside the car had an aura that stood out to beings not entirely from the modern world. No matter how unobtrusive and innocent they tried to make themselves, they still didn't quite manage it.

"It is amazing how many people have passed that vehicle and not paid it any mind." Maedhros said softly. "You would think in these days of increased media attention and news items, especially about criminals, paedophiles and their ilk, that one of these good law-abiding residents of this place would have questioned the fact that the car and its two occupants have been parked there for almost a day."

Erestor perched on the window seat. "I have often observed that the Secondborn tend to see what they wish to see and ignore that which they feel may threaten them. These are not the days of the Dunedain my friend. Those descendants of Numenor, nay _all _humans, were still alert to the dangers around them during our time in Middle-earth. These modern Mortals have not had to be alert for such dangers for decades and they no longer listen to those warnings deep inside them."

"They also would never believe that they could possibly be the target of anything like surveillance by MI5." Eönwë's voice sounded behind them, although neither jumped at the sudden appearance of the Maia.

Maedhros studied the Herald's features closely. They were all by now aware of Kim's conversation with her husband and the advice she had given him. If the mortal Gary was active within the Herald's brain now, there was no outward evidence of it. Maedhros himself had been filled with fury when the meeting in London was recounted to him. His first instinct was to go and lift both secret service agents out of their silly little vehicle and summarily execute them. It was only his mother's gentle, but firm, remonstrations and his brother's advice that stopped him, but he still thought the whole situation was ridiculous and very mortal.

"So what do we do with them?" He asked, raising his eyebrows at the Herald who laughed softly and lifted his hands.

For the first time Maedhros noticed that Eönwë held a tray with two mugs of steaming tea and a plate with sandwiches and two pieces of Erestor's famous lemon flavoured cake on it. His eyebrows climbed even higher. "We are going to _feed _them?"

Eönwë chuckled. "No Maedhros, _I _am going to feed them, _you _are going to continue to keep watch for me. I need to know what they're doing, when and if anyone else talks to them. In fact I don't want them to swallow spit the wrong way without us knowing about it. Finrod will relieve your watch in an hour."

"Whose bright idea was this?" Maedhros inquired. His green eyes were gleaming at the thought of some real work. The battle in the Police place had been just a taster for him. He craved some sort of action.

Eönwë shrugged. "Mine. They apparently think I'm some fucking bull-headed, dimwitted soldier who couldn't _possibly_ have twigged that they might put a tail on me. I am just letting them know that their pathetic attempts to be covert are one giant, epic failure."

"Gary, is that you?" Erestor leaned closer to the Herald who grinned at him.

"Both of us actually. Watch this, it should be fun." Eönwë winked at them both, opened the front door and walked purposefully down the driveway. The two Elves watched him balance the tray on one arm and open the gate. Moments later they were trying hard to contain their laughter at the expressions on the two agents' faces as they were offered tea and sandwiches by the subject of their supposedly strictly covert surveillance.

The expression of huge glee on Eönwë's face as he headed back to the house was so reminiscent of Gary Matthews as he had been prior to being melded with his other self that neither Elf doubted that the mortal part of Gary was back in the driving seat.

"Uh oh..." Maedhros was grinning widely. "Guess who's back."

Erestor met Eönwë at the threshold of the front door and took the tray from him.

"_I'll _take that, the very _nerve _of you feeding those two despicable creatures out there my special lemon cake!" He scolded.

"Sorry." Eönwë tried for a contrite expression, but failed miserably, especially when he spotted a twinkle amongst the outrage in Erestor's eyes. "I put some of that nice ham you cooked in the sandwiches as well."

Erestor, who was already heading back to the kitchen, stopped dead in his tracks. He did not turn, but a greatly amused Eönwë and Maedhros could tell from the stiffening of the former Imladris counsellor's spine that he was restraining himself greatly from a massive display of emotion. After a moment, he continued on his way and slammed the kitchen door behind him, leaving the two behind him in no doubt as to the fact that they were both in the doghouse..

"Phew." Eönwë made a mock show of wiping his brow. "I thought I was a goner there for sure."

Maedhros shook with laughter, but a movement in the dark street caught his keen eyes. Another larger vehicle had pulled up just outside of the high hedge that surrounded Eönwë's garden. To any normal human it would have been undetected, hidden as it was behind the hedge and in the dark, but then it wasn't any normal human who was watching.

Moments later, the passenger in the original car quietly came up, opened the gate and put the tray, now empty apart from a plate with crumbs and two empty mugs, down just inside on the grass. He glanced over towards the dark frontage of the house and Maedhros could see the confusion and frustration on the man's face as he failed to spot who it was that was watching him.

The original car left a couple of minutes later, but the other vehicle now silent, remained where it was.

"It's a van." Maedhros announced finally, after having slipped silently down the garden and peered through the hedge to get a closer look. "It has Southern Electricity written across it. I am thinking some form of surveillance vehicle, probably with electronic surveillance equipment in it."

"Oh, now _that's_ just insulting." Eönwë said. He looked mildly affronted. "They really _do_ think I'm some kind of dumb ass don't they?" He squeezed Maedhros on the shoulder. "Keep watching, I'll send Finrod along to relieve you shortly. There are some discussions to field in the living room and I also need to plan my next move. The two intelligence operatives in the car must have notified base HQ that they'd been 'made'. If the other guys are still there in the morning, which I have no doubt they will be, I'll send Erestor out with breakfast."

Maedhros settled down to his watch and didn't take his eyes off the not-so-well hidden car even when Nerdanel gently pressed a cup of honey and chamomile tea in his hand.

ooOoo

There was a momentary lull in the soft chatter in the living room as soon as Eönwë entered. Allie had long been put to bed and Kim sat at the dining room table giggling quietly over something with Nerdanel and Hal. Maglor, Elladan, now reassured that his mother was safe and his parents were reunited, and Finrod were also engaged in quiet conversation in Sindarin and every so often Hal would glance sharply over at them, his brows drawn together in a slight frown as though the language was vaguely familiar to him, but he wasn't quite sure why. He hadn't noticed the brief glimmer of recognition in Elladan's eyes when they had been introduced. Elladan had quickly masked the glimmer and behaved with his usual exemplary courtesy, but every now and again his grey eyes drifted to where the American sat conversing with Kim and Nerdanel.

Chief was sitting in a low armchair beside the fireplace, where a roaring fire had been kindled by Maedhros earlier in the afternoon before he went to stand watch. His long legs were stretched out comfortably in front of him and Rasputin the cat was curled up on his knee. His eyes were closed but it was plain to everyone that he wasn't actually asleep. Hal's dog had taken to lying in front of Allie's bedroom door during the night and it didn't occur to anyone in the household to stop him from being the little girl's personal sentinel.

Erestor slipped in quietly behind the Herald, carrying a large tray with coffee and teapots, mugs and biscuits which he laid on the server. Both Kim and Nerdanel got up to help him lay everything out. Eönwë stood in front of the window; one eye was on the dark shape of the van which was stationary behind the hedge and the other was on the group assembled in front of him. Once everyone was served with drinks and biscuits Eönwë turned his full attention on the little group and gave a whimsical smile.

"It's like looking at Hogan's Heroes." He murmured under his breath, causing Chief to choke with laughter on his coconut cream biscuit.

"Not the A Team then?" He snorted and then coughed as a crumb went down the wrong way.

Eönwë looked pensive and then laughed. "No, because then we'd have to have a large Elf with a Mohawk hairdo, lots of gold chains and black skin. Maglor is probably the nearest we have to that and _he_ doesn't even come close."

That caused both Hal and Maglor, who knew what the Herald and Chief were referring to, to double up with laughter whilst Nerdanel, Finrod and Erestor just looked very confused at the television references.

"Who are are we still waiting for?" Hal asked, but before Eönwë could answer there were the sounds of footsteps coming up the passage.

"That would be Jim, Alun Davies and DCS Phelan." Eönwë said calmly. "I told them to come in the back way through the coppice and the gap in the back fence to avoid the goons waiting at the front."

The three police officers were ushered into the room by Erestor who had gone to meet them and they were introduced to Hal and Elladan who were the only ones who didn't know who they were. During the greetings, only Eönwë noticed the start that both Hal and Elladan gave as they were introduced to Jim Moore.

For his part, Jim shook hands with the American and gave him a long measured glance through narrowed eyes. To the Herald it was as if the young policeman was sifting through his memories as to a reason why the tall, dour former US Army Ranger looked so familiar. Eönwë smiled to himself, their reactions only gave substance to his own thoughts on the subject, thoughts he had kept to himself up till now.

Hal continued to stare fixedly at Jim, even when the young man enveloped Kim in a bear hug and stole her biscuit off her plate, earning him a light, playful slap on the wrist and a warning glance from Erestor who pointedly offered him the plate of biscuits. Elladan said nothing, he merely sat back down and regarded both Jim and Hal with a narrowed gaze.

"Stolen fruits taste nicer." Jim protested with a grin and as he smiled, Eönwë saw Hal draw in a deep, shuddering breath of something close to recognition. The Herald still said nothing, however, and merely waited patiently until the commotion had died down and the new arrivals were settled with drinks and biscuits of their own. The interaction between Hal and Jim was of great interest, but more important matters needed to be discussed before the Herald dealt with it.

Bill Phelan had remained quite quiet apart from shaking hands with everyone. He and Alun both knew from their own sources within the police force that the battle with the Lycans had not gone down well with the Police hierarchy in the form of the Chief Constable. The only advantage they had over Eönwë was that so far, they had been given the benefit of the doubt over the incident. The Police intensely disliked being dragged into what they termed 'Sneaky Beaky business' and they tried to retain their autonomy wherever they could despite the attempts of the Intelligence Service to horn in and flex their muscles. The Home Secretary had left the police to deal with their people, but the Chief Constable knew that it was just a courtesy. If the Intelligence Service put the pressure on, the Chief Constable would have to be seen to act appropriately.

The Chief Constable had been polite with the Intelligence people, but had informed them in no uncertain terms that what went on in a police station headquarters was the business of the Police only and that they could clean their own house without the help of MI5 if it was necessary. However both senior police officers present at Eönwë's home knew that the Herald had been hauled through the coals for something that the Intelligence Service called a 'possible international incident'.

In spite of all that, Phelan knew that whether he liked it or not, his lot was now thrown in with these strange people. He had been in a state of shock after the battle, but he knew what he had seen and it shocked him even more that the government and the security services were prepared to turn a blind eye to a senior officer's report and treat it with the same contempt as they would have treated a report that aliens had landed in the middle of Trafalgar Square.

The only other person who was not present was Jan Hall. She had accompanied Jeff Harris to a secret location where Dr Rob Norman, the military scientist who had headed the research into the time rift that had caused Gary Matthews, Chief, Kim and Jim Moore to end up in Middle-earth, was waiting to put the unfortunate Jeff through some tests. However Jan was no less involved than any of them now.

Eönwë continued to survey the people present in the room while they settled down, but a slight nudge on his foot caused him to glance down at Chief who had been watching the interchange between Jim Moor and his old friend Hal with interest.

"What's with Hal and young Jim?" He asked quietly. "They're acting almost as if they know each other, but as far as I know Hal's not been to England in the last twenty years or so so how could they?"

Eönwë shrugged. "They've never met before tonight... at least not in _this _lifetime."

Chief immediately sat up straight in the chair, dislodging Rasputin who gave an annoyed hiss and burrowed more firmly down on the lap he had claimed. "They didn't meet in the War of Wrath did they?"

"Alas no." Eönwë shook his head. "Their time came a little later on, long after the time of Elros Tar Minyatur. Long after the time of Elendil. Even long after Sauron's spirit was depleted after the last Alliance of Men and Elves when Elendil struck the ring from his finger and took it for were gild. Once, long ago, they were companions and fought alongside each other...at least their ancestors did. Apparently the apples have not fallen far from the tree. I believe they are the descendants of Aragorn, known as King Elessar Telcontar and Queen Arwen Undomiel and of Halbarad the Ranger who served his chieftain loyally and died on the Fields of Pelennor leavings sons to carry on his line."

The Chief had an astounded look on his face. "Did you know that back when we were all trying to stay alive in the War of Wrath?"

Eönwë shook his head again. "No. At that time it had not been decided what would be done with the race of Men who served loyally in the war of the Valar. I knew that Elros and his brother Elrond would be given the choice of which race to align themselves with, because it was I who was given the task of announcing that choice to them. I even knew which would make what choice. However I did not know that Jim was actually Elros's descendant, not until I actually returned to Middle-earth to claim Kim and be at Allie's birth. By then I was beginning to gain back the knowledge of what had gone on before. Yet even so I merely had a suspicion. After all, it was I who spent the years teaching Elros and the people going with him the things they needed to know to rule Numenor."

By this time Maglor was listening to the conversation. "So Elrond and Celebrian have gone in search of evidence of their daughter's line surviving in southern France and all the time their descendants were here?"

"So it would seem..or one of them at least. At the time of their arrival here my suspicions were not formed and of course neither of them met Jim before they left on their voyage of discovery." Eonwe glanced over at Hal again. "The problem now is how to tell Jim and Hal that they may have been reincarnated or at the very least been imprinted with the same DNA as their ancestors."

Chief gave a snort. "Very gently I would say, knowing both men quite well. It seems that young Elladan is already suffering from the same deja vu as Hal and Jim are, so your suspicions are obviously well funded. Will you recall Master Elrond and the others from France? "

Eonwe sighed. "Indeed Elladan would feel deja vu, since he and his twin Elrohir were as brothers to Aragorn from early in his life and also knew Halbarad well. They both often rode in errantry with the Dunedain of the North. As to recalling Thranduil and the others, I have already instructed Master Elrond to send Lady Celebrian back with Haldir and the vampire at least, I would have her safe here where she can be protected and I want to speak with this Maksim myself. However I think that with the discovery of what can only be what was once known as Dwarrowdelf or Moria in the Swiss Alps, perhaps Thranduil, Glorfindel and Haldir may be better off going to investigate that event since it may tie in with the current situation, I understand that Hal's friend Xavier is an important member of the team of experts and could take the three of them as members of that team. In addition, all three of them have a knowledge of Khuzdul, which is the language of the Dwarves. We need to know what, if anything, still lives down there. The Dwarves delved deep in Moria and we know that they awoke at least one Valarauko. We don't know what else may be there that Herumor could make use of. I can think of no others better placed to do that than Thranduil, Elrond and any case, the less Elves we have here during this surveillance by MI5 the better."

"You may find that rather an impossible undertaking, once Elrond and Celebrian hear about young Jim and Hal. " Maglor remarked with a smile. "As a child Elrond could be very stubborn when he chose to be. I have no doubt that it is still a trait he carries."

A faint smile tugged at Eönwë 's lips as well. "Well we will see what transpires first. There may be at least one person yet to come who may be even more suitable to help investigate Moria. Who more suitable than the Elf who helped Narvi with the making and carving of the doors to the Dwarven city itself?"

Maglor's mouth dropped open slightly. "Celebrimbor? My nephew is coming here?"

Eönwë placed a finger over his lips. "So a little bird told me, but let it remain between us for now. I don't know when the Valar will send him. It seems that he will also be accompanied, but the Elf coming with him has only recently been reborn and needs time to adjust."

"I remember Celebrimbor." The Chief said gruffly. "Nice lad, came to a very sticky end if Olorin's foresight was anything to go by (1). I'm pleased the Valar saw fit to release him from Mandos. More sinned against than sinning if I rightly remember."

Maglor nodded sadly. "Indeed he was. My nephew was just an innocent caught up in that damned oath of Atto's."

Eönwë straightened and cleared his throat, thereby ending the conversation. He immediately gained everyone's attention and silence fell over the room.

"You have been gathered here to answer the threat of Herumor, Black Numenorean and scion of the fallen Maia Sauron. You all know what transpired a couple of nights ago and the results of that encounter with the werewolves now currently in the service of Herumor. You all also know that I have been _officially_ ordered to cease my interference in this regard by the Home Secretary and the Intelligence Security Services. We _all_ know from experience that we cannot ignore the threat to Middle-earth and its people, but we are few and they are many and hold great power. So tonight we are here to discuss the best way forward. We do not have the Army of the Host of the Valar behind us this time, all we have are the few people assembled here and those still remaining in France. It's not going to be easy, people. We have a long hard task ahead of us and we will receive no help from the authorities, at least not officially. Yet most, if not all of us, know that we _must _do what we can to halt the current darkness from sweeping over this place. We do not have a choice in this." He halted his speech for a moment and then continued. "The alternative is that Middle-earth will fall into darkness from which there can be no return."

"So we're fighting the British authorities as well as these... creatures?" Hal's voice was quiet.

Eönwë nodded. "Not just the British authorities Hal." He said softly. "There was a representative from the CIA and Mossad present at the meeting, so we are fighting the American and Israeli Intelligence services as well. Although the Mossad agent didn't seem totally convinced and the woman from the CIA seemed to view me more as sexual prey than an actual danger to security."

Kim muttered something inaudible under her breath at that, but Eönwë smiled tenderly at her and she subsided somewhat.

"The CIA." Hal said slowly. "Nothing but a bunch of hysterical women searching for Reds under the bed and monsters in the cupboard. Aren't they generally too busy searching for terrorists and terrorizing innocent Muslim families to believe in werewolves and vampires?"

Everyone laughed at that except for Finrod, Elladan and Erestor who were a bit lost on the references to terrorism.

"Be that as it may, it's now very obvious that we are going to have to fight the various authorities as _well _as Herumor and his minions, werewolf, vampire and Balrog alike. Whether they know it or not, the Intelligence Services have firmly put themselves in his camp and that leaves us with a huge problem. The only way to overcome that problem is to fight fire with fire. We have to be as sneaky and covert in our actions as they are. We have no large army to overcome with force of arms, all we can do is chip away at the footholds we've already made and try to build up allies. We already know that Draugluin is no friend of Herumor and we know through the vampire Maksim, that there are members of his race who have not aligned themselves with Herumor. Where there are a few, there may be many more. We need to sleep with the enemy and build on this. It's the only way."

Phelan stood up. "Well I for one am not prepared to sit back and let hideous creatures such as we saw the other night rip people to pieces. I don't have much influence, but I will stand up and be counted." He stated firmly and was rewarded with a warm smile from the Herald.

Finrod put a gentle hand on the police officer's shoulder. "Nor will the Elves. Whatever happens here will ultimately impact Valinor in some way, otherwise why would Eru and the Valar have sent us here? We will stand and fight in whatever way Lord Eönwë deems fitting."

Murmurs of agreement whispered around the room.

Eönwë smiled at them. "Then let's talk about plans of campaign. We need to stop fighting fires wherever they spring up and have something firm in place so that everyone knows where they are and what they have to do. And I have a lot to learn about how to become a political animal. The sooner we all start, the better."

ooOoo

(1) A Singular Honour. This is a reference to Chief Knowles' body being inhabited by Olorin's fea when Chief was badly injured. Olorin had a moment of foresight as to Celebrimbor's ultimate fate.


	29. Spies R Us

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Thanks again for the reviews, as always they are most appreciated. Christmas Day is done and the fuss is over all bar the shouting. I ate too much yesterday and probably drank far more than was actually good for me. Thank goodness it only happens once a year! I hope all my readers and indeed everyone else had a peaceful and happy Christmas.

" The practice or employment of spies; the practice of watching the words and conduct of others, to make discoveries, as spies or secret emissaries; secret watching "

___**- Definition of Espionage**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 29 – Spies R Us**

**Residence of Brigadier Gary and Kim Matthews, Hampshire UK 2am...**

A slender finger of moonlight crept through a chink in the heavy curtains draped over the window of Allie's bedroom. She convulsively clutched Bear to her chest and watched from her small bed as it gradually reached the doorway. The Maia part of her knew that the only reason that the beam of light could move was if someone was slowly parting the curtains; the human part of her, the part that was only three years old, was scared enough that it froze into immobility. And therein lay the problem of being a Maia spirit born in the body of a mortal, both halves of her, the mortal child and the adult Maia spirit, were constantly at war with each other.

She scrunched up to the very top of her bed when a soft scraping noise sounded out near the window sill. Again, the Maia side of her told her that someone had gained entry through her window and that she ought to leave now and seek her father's help, but for once, the mortal child part of her did what was probably the right thing given that although she had the inherent Maia ability to be swift, it was encumbered by a small mortal child's physical limitations. So instead, she remained very very still and closed her eyes leaving only a slit open so that she could see what was happening. Her small fingers pulled the quilt up so that only the top half of her face showed.

The curtains parted a little more and the child watched in horrified fascination as a dark figure slid bonelessly over the sill and onto the floor, immediately rising slightly into a crouched, alert position, where it remained for quite a long time. Allie's heart hammered like a frightened rabbit as finally the figure straightened up and crept over to the bed. She knew, even without opening her eyes, that the intruder was bending over her; watching her to see if she really was asleep.

After what seemed like hours to the little girl, the intruder eventually stood up and turned away from the bed, obviously satisfied that the child was in a sound sleep and had heard nothing of his or her entry. Allie cautiously opened her eyes a little more and she could see that the intruder was now in front of the bedroom door.

_Now _was the time to tell Daddy that there was danger. She scrunched her face up in concentration, focused all the intensity of her thoughts and fear and sent out a clarion call to her father or indeed anyone else who might be listening.

_DADDY! _

ooOoo

._...DADDY!_

Eönwë wasn't the only one who heard the cries of his daughter. Every single Elf in the household also heard it, as did the four Maiar warriors who were constantly on watch over the Herald and his family even from as far away as over the Straight Road to Valinor. They travelled in spirit form to the Herald's home in a matter of seconds and materialised outside Allie's door.

"What's up? What's wrong?"

Kim sat up sleepily as Eönwë swung his long legs over the side of the bed and got to his feet in one fluid movement. He turned back to the bed long enough to smile reassuringly at his wife. Even dressed in a pair of shorts and nothing else, Eönwë still managed to look a formidable warrior.

"It's okay." He said softly. "I think Allie has had a nightmare. Go back to sleep, I'll go and give her a cuddle and try to get her off again."

Kim yawned and snuggled back into the warmth of the quilt. "Mmmhmm. Okay."

Seconds later she was asleep again and therefore did not see her husband transform himself into a Maia warrior in full battle mail, complete with long shining sword.

Even as he reached the door of his daughter's room, four armed Elves and four Maiar already awaited him with swords drawn. Erestor had one restraining hand on Bob the dog's collar and was soothingly speaking to the animal in Sindarin. The Herald could hear hair-raising, low growls from the animal and the hackles were up on Bob's neck.

At a gesture from the Herald, the eight warriors fanned out in the passageway and Bob stopped growling as he slunk to Eönwë's side.

The door slowly opened.

ooOoo

_Whatever_ the intruder was expecting to see when he or she opened the door, it certainly wasn't being faced with a number of very tall, grim, feral looking creatures from what might have been another planet or even universe, with fell, shining eyes and armed to the teeth. Any intruder could have been excused taking a rapid series of steps backwards into the room in both astonishment and trepidation at the sight.

Eönwë saw the intruder step back into his daughter's room, but before the intruder could slam the door and get some leverage in the form of a hostage, the Herald moved so swiftly that he was a mere blur of movement to those watching. The intruder heard a low, terrifying growl, felt one strong hand close around his neck in a vice-like grip and found himself lifted clear off his feet and out of the bedroom before he could even take another breath. A mere split second later and he was slammed up against the wall with such force that he was stunned into submission, even without the death grip around his throat threatening to cut off his air supply.

Eönwë turned his head to look at Erestor. He nodded to the Elf who sheathed his long knife and slipped into the bedroom followed by the dog. The door quietly shut and Eönwë could hear the quiet murmurs of the former Imladris counsellor as he softly reassured the frightened little girl.

Meanwhile the intruder, who Eönwë now knew was male and armed, had come to his senses and immediately wished he hadn't bothered. As he opened his eyes to face his aggressor, he found himself gazing into the most alien looking eyes blazing with a white hot fury that he could only ever have imagined in his worst nightmares. Add to that the fact that as the oxygen slowly shut off to his brain, his vision had sparkling flashes of light all over it and he knew that this was one mission that was not going to end well.

He mentally kicked himself even as the sparkles across his vision changed to swirling red and purple like a manic kaleidoscope from hell. All he was supposed to do was to place surveillance bugs over the house of the British Army Brigadier, nothing more than that. Simple. Except that HQ had failed to notify him that the damn house was bursting at the seams with armed soldiers the like of which he had never ever seen in _all_ his years as a security operative.

One of the Maiar stepped forward. "Lord Eönwë, we realise that it is your prerogative to punish those who seek to harm your family but do you not think that it may be better to have the captive alive so we can find out who it is that sent him and why?"

For a moment, but what seemed like centuries to the intruder, Eönwë remained where he was, effortlessly pinning the man against the wall with one hand and struggling with the white hot fury that burned inside him. Then, abruptly and contemptuously, he loosened his grip and the intruder plummeted to the floor and lay in a half-conscious heap whilst his chest heaved and struggled to take in huge gasps of life-giving air into burning, oxygen deprived lungs. When he had finally managed to achieve some sort of regular breathing pattern that _didn't_ involve choking, coughing and gasping, he looked up with streaming eyes only to find the points of eight very lethal looking swords only inches away from his face.

A voice, clear and yet deadly, filled with a kind of savage, primeval threat such as he had never in his entire life heard before and that sent shivers down his spine, spoke.

"_You are not welcome here Mortal."_

The intruder did the only thing humanly possible under the circumstances and fainted dead away.

ooOoo

**A room in the Metropole Hotel, London a few hours later...**

"Okay Joram, tell me again and try to make some sense this time. What the fuck happened?"

It had been six hours since Joram had left the seedy looking Metropole Hotel in London to carry out what _should _have been the simplest mission in the entire world of espionage. His mission statement was clear and concise; he was to enter Brigadier Matthew's house silently and by subterfuge and plant listening devices so that the agency knew exactly what was going on with what was, in essence, a very senior member of the British Armed Forces. The British security service was rattled by the Brigadier which was interesting enough, but the fact that the American CIA were _also_ interested, now _that_ was an occasion that merited further examination.

It was a straightforward textbook task, one that Joram had carried out many times before. In and out, quick as you like with nobody in the target household disturbed in any way. It should have taken a couple of hours maximum and that included travelling time to the target location. Instead five hours later and Joram's superior, whose name was Ezekiel, knew that something had gone wrong when Joram had still not returned and reported in. So, when another operative found a blindfolded, bound and gagged Joram back in his hotel room the London section leader for Mossad was both astounded and baffled.

Subsequent questioning of the trembling Joram had evinced nothing but what Ezekiel thought was utter gibberish, but he was sensible enough to realise that as Joram was a valued and experienced member of the team, he would not be in such a state of terror for nothing. The only world that he could make any sense out of was the word 'Irin' which was the Hebrew name for the ancient Watchers from Biblical times, those angels who fell from grace in antediluvian times.

The other operative on the team, recently flown out from Tel Aviv, had paled at the repeated word even as Ezekiel tried to pooh-pooh it as nothing but superstitious nonsense, but his words sounded hollow, even to his own ears. The fact was that Joram was made of stern stuff and wasn't easily rattled, so _something_ in that British officer's house was very very wrong and worse, the listening devices had not been planted. How was he to explain this failure to the head of Mossad?

"You will have to go in Joram's place Gideon." He said firmly to the other operative.

Gideon went as white as a sheet and shook his head violently. "Me? No...if Joram could not complete it, how can I do it?" He pointed at the shivering Joram with a trembling finger. "You see him, _look_ at him, look at his hair at the front, it has gone white. I do not wish to engage with any manner of being who can do such a thing. He has faced the very devil himself."

Joram's hair had indeed developed a long white streak that started at the left of centre hairline of his forehead and ended at a mid point behind the top of his head, rather reminiscent of a skunk or even the cartoon character Pepe le Pew.

"You will follow orders Gideon, this is what we train you for." Ezekiel barked at him. "If _we_ do not plant the listening devices, then the Americans will."

By this time Joram had managed to get a modicum of control over himself. Leaning heavily on the arm of the chair he was sitting in, he struggled to his feet and took a shaky step toward to the two quarreling men.

"_They will fail._" His voice was a croaked whisper due to damage to his throat and vocal chords by a hand that had a strength of demons, or angels, Joram had not actually made up his mind which suited best, but since they hadn't actually killed him and had dumped him back in his bedroom virtually unharmed, the Mossad agent was beginning to believe the latter.

Both Ezekiel and Gideon stopped arguing and turned to him in surprise.

"They will fail." He repeated in a stronger voice and sank back down on the chair. "They did not kill me and yet were more than capable of doing so. The one they call Brigadier Matthews has another name, one _they_ called him...Eönwë or some such name and they called him Lord. Demon or angel I know not which they are, but their anger was more directed at me because I threatened the Brigadier's child, not because they were afraid of me or meant me harm. I would not be here now if they meant me harm."

Ezekiel shrugged helplessly. "What would you have me do? I cannot go back to Tel Aviv and tell the Director of Mossad that we failed because you saw angels or demons, he will transport all of us into the middle of Syria and abandon us to our fate. What do we do? We cannot let the Americans get the upper hand in this. Something is going down and they _know_ what it is. I feel it in my very bones. That American creature that masquerades as a woman is one of their top operatives, they do _not_ send her to investigate or observe lightly."

Joram glanced up at Ezekiel, his face was lined with weariness and his hands were clasped in between his knees. His whole demeanour was one of defeat. "I know and I agree, we cannot let them have the upper hand, but I sensed nothing evil from those creatures tonight. Although they are few, I think that _being_ on their side will be far more beneficial than standing against them."

Ezekiel took a step towards Joram, his expression was one of utter astonishment. "You are suggesting we_ join_ them?" He leaned forward and peered in Joram's eyes suspiciously. "Did they drug you?"

"_What?_ No..." Joram turned his head irritably. "You are not listening to me. They did not _need_ to use drugs or even violence. They give off this...aura..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "They shine, but their eyes are terrible and they pierced me to my very soul. Nothing I thought or knew was a closed book to them. _I_ am suggesting that instead of trying to beat them, we offer our assistance, as an agency with resources. that will put us in a much better position than the Americans or the British...especially the British and their tea-swilling, clod-hopping donkeys they call agents."

Ezekiel sighed deeply and went over to the window. He stared down at the rain-washed London street and momentarily longed for the heat and scent of Israel. He had been in England for too long, the damp had pervaded his bones. Join them Joram said. He glanced around at Joram again. He was sipping a glass of water that Gideon had fetched for him, wincing as the cold water sluiced down his bruised throat. Ezekiel sighed again. Irin eh? Well... maybe the end time had come and one could do much worse than align oneself on the side of Angels.

Finally he turned away from the window and sat down. He asked Gideon to order breakfast for them from room service.

"Very well, tell me _again _what happened, from the beginning. And leave _nothing_ out."

ooOoo

**In the Surveillance Van outside Gary and Kim's house in the early hours of the morning...**

A small blonde haired woman sat in the surveillance van and watched in amusement as the Mossad agent sneaked around the garden. She sighed to herself. The Mossad were _so_ damned obvious. The CIA hadn't bothered with trying to plant listening devices inside the house, but had contented themselves instead with planting them on the outside of the property. These devices were the most sophisticated on the market and could penetrate from the outside to the point whereby any part of the house within their range was immediately under surveillance and any movement was recorded on the television screens in the van outside.

So far, the screens in the van had shown nothing but a household going about their normal business. Granted there were rather a lot of people living in the Brigadier's house, but it was a big house. She knew about the little girl and had already dismissed the Brigadier's wife as a nonentity who wasn't worth paying any attention to. The other men in the house were tall and if they red-haired man was anything to go by, almost as delectable as the Brigadier himself, but apart from that, it seemed like a normal household.

However, when the Mossad agent entered the house and did not come out and _still _their cameras showed nothing, _that _was when Catherine Dalton, CIA Agent extraordinaire, started to understand that something was very amiss and realised that there was something to worry about where the Brigadier was concerned.

She clicked her mobile on and started to send an encrypted text to CIA headquarters.

ooOoo


	30. The Shieldmaidens

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **And once again thanks for the reviews. Yes, I hadn't addressed the duality of Allie's nature and the problems it might cause for her. The Maia part of her being a spirit blessed upon her by Eru himself as part of the Music is more or less adult, but it is imbued in a still developing mortal child's body. It can educate her to some extent but she still needs to develop as any small human child would need to, so certain limitations are placed on her. Allie won't fully come into her own until she reaches her teen years and then I think Eönwë may well lock her away in a tower, especially when it comes to prospective boyfriends. I think that comes as part and parcel of fatherhood when it comes to daughters!

Also I feel it necessary to expand on some of the problems that Kim and Eönwë may have in this regard, which is what this next chapter is dedicated to outlining. There would be ramifications to anything like that and Kim and Eönwë would be less than rounded characters if I didn't spend a little time expounding on the possible reactions to events.

"It needs but one foe to breed a war, and those who have not swords can still die upon them."

___**- J R R Tolkien, Lord of the Rings**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 30 – The Shieldmaidens**

**Residence of Brigadier Gary and Kim Matthews, Hampshire, early that Sunday morning after the intrusion.**

"_What?" _Kim jumped to her feet. Her chair fell over with a crash and there were two bright blotches of colour high on her cheeks.

"Kim..." Eönwë started to be placatory. He got up from his place at the dining room table, went around the table to her and straightened the chair up. He reached out a hand to his very angry wife. "There was nothing you could have done. It was under control from the very beginning."

If his blandishment was meant to soothe her and make her feel safe, it failed miserably. Her face filled with fury as she whipped around to face him and the rest of the table were stunned to see her slap her husband's hands away.

Eönwë was no less astonished at her actions, but despite a niggling sensation that he was about to do the wrong thing entirely, he reached out to her again in another attempt to placate her.

It _was_ the wrong action to take and the moment he did it, he groaned inwardly. He had forgotten about that temper of hers. He had forgotten how easily she could be goaded. Since Allie's birth she had been a lot calmer, a lot less prone to emotional and irrational outbursts. He had put it down to motherhood mellowing her and to her new-found maturity, but apparently it was all still there beneath the surface. Memories of her flight through the woods when she was rescued by Maedhros and his band of warriors vied with the times he and Gary had been separate and had each done or said something stupid, but because they kept exchanging bodies, neither realised what the other had done and consequently kept compounding the errors with her. It had confused and angered Kim and her reactions had been anger, bewilderment and hurt.

Just as they were this morning.

He looked up and locked gazes with Maedhros who shook his head gently, Erestor had stopped dead in the doorway carrying a tray with freshly grilled sausage and bacon on it. He also remembered Kim's outbursts from their time in the War of Wrath. Everyone else just looked very confused. The Kim they had begun to know was vastly different from this outraged, furious woman.

"Let. Me. Get. This. Straight." Kim's voice had grown deceptively calm, even though her eyes had sparks of fury and tears of rage in them. "My daughter..._my baby_...was in danger last night. Someone climbed into her room, frightened her half to death and you _didn't _think it _was._.._a...good...idea _to wake her mother?"

Her voice rose upwards at the end of the sentence and the gaps between the words 'a good idea' should have actually given the Herald a more than fair idea of the wrath that was to come, instead he just felt confused, as he always had done with her when she was in this sort of mood. Even as Gary he had been constantly nonplussed by what he considered to be her erratic and irrational feminine moods. In the seconds between the end of her speech and her next action Eönwë desperately tried to remember whether she was at the wrong time of the month perhaps. Surely protecting her from harm and hurt was what he was _supposed_ to do? Should she really be reacting like this? What did he do wrong?

All very valid questions according to the male psyche.

"I...I.." He stuttered, feeling less like the most powerful Maia in Valinor, leader of warriors and more like a bewildered husband by the minute. He started to reach his hand out again and withdrew it quickly as her basilisk stare alighted on it. Her eyes plainly said 'don't you dare' to him. "I was trying to protect you...and Allie. You could have done nothing last night.... I was trying not to worry you...." His voice trailed off nervously.

And there it was... the _very_ thing that he _shouldn't _have said. The words 'you could have done nothing' speared Kim right through her gut. In the old days she would have dissolved into tears and sulked in private, pushing away any attempt to comfort her, but much had changed inside her. She actually _wasn't _the same young woman who sulked and fumed her way through hideous circumstances in the War of Wrath, she was a wife and mother and whether her child was special or Maia or whatever, it was also _her_ job to protect and comfort and Eönwë had deprived her of that right, or so it seemed to her.

A distant part of her realised fully that it had not been his intention to do that, but she was far too angry and hurt to acknowledge it and the end result was the same. _She_ was the useless member of the current team on earth. _She_ couldn't fight,_ she_ had no powers...hell...Allie had more power than her mother did. _She_ wasn't tall, scary or even stunningly beautiful. _She _was just his wife and happened to have given birth to his child. Suddenly Kim didn't know what her place was in all of this, but instead of bursting into the predictable tears and sulking over her lack of self esteem, her outrage at being sidelined into the pathetic little wife role was so huge that it overpowered the rest of her emotions and she saw red.

Eönwë _should_ have been able to read many of the emotions flitting across his wife's face but he was so shocked at her reaction that he failed to recognise any of it. Maedhros saw the sudden change in her expression and half rose to his feet only to be pulled back down to his chair by his mother, who also recognised it, for had she not been married to Feanor and always felt like a dull flicker of light to his bright star? Had their sons not followed their father like moths drawn to a bright flame and left their mother behind in loneliness and despair feeling that all of her efforts to be a good mother had been for nothing?

Finrod also watched with bright eyed amusement as the Herald stumbled around in the dark apparently unaware of the storm about to break over his head and Erestor just sighed, put the food down on the table and stood by waiting. He had never married, but had witnessed many similar arguments between Elrond and Celebrian in the early days of their marriage. He sensed what was coming.

The only person who seemed utterly unaffected and who cheerfully dug into his breakfast was Hal. He had never married either and had avoided women like the plague. He wasn't particularly surprised at the events unfolding. He hadn't been needed either, but that was fine with him. He wasn't emotionally involved like Kim was and he knew the time would come when his expertise would be needed. His only thought on the matter was that Eönwë was being remarkably dumb-assed where his wife was concerned. Didn't he realise just how savage and therefore effective a mother could be when protecting her child? Never underestimate the rage of a mother when her family are threatened.

He took a bite of sausage and decided that English sausages beat Canadian or American hands down any day of the week. He was a pragmatic old soldier, he knew that you ate whenever there was food in front of you because you never knew when the next meal was going to appear. He had absolutely no idea just _how_ like his ancestor Halbarad he actually was.

Kim lunged forward before anyone actually realised her intention. Her hands met Eönwë's chest as she shoved him with every bit of her strength and the sudden attack took him by surprise. He stumbled backwards and reached out to save himself from falling. The only reasonably solid thing he managed to grasp was a small side table but it wasn't heavy enough to support him as he fell. Instead he fell right on top of it and the sound of the legs splintering echoed through the now silent room. Erestor's mouth had dropped open, Finrod let out a bark of laughter which he managed to turn into a cough at the last minute after encountering Aunt Nerdanel's cold stare of disapproval. Maedhros shook his head in despair and Hal's fork with sausage impaled on it was arrested halfway to his mouth.

"I could have done _nothing_?" Kim's voice started as a deadly whisper and ended with a shriek worthy of a banshee. She lunged forward again just as Eönwë managed to gain his feet and poked him in his chest again. "My child was in danger and I could have done _nothing_? You didn't think I would be interested perhaps? I'm so fucking useless that you didn't even bother to fucking wake me? Then do tell me, o great one, what fucking use am I here? What am I doing here? I can't fight, I don't look scary, I have no bloody powers? You couldn't even fucking let me go and comfort my baby when she was frightened and upset. What kind of asshole are you?" The tears of fury were now beginning spill out of her eyes.

This time Eönwë managed to keep on his feet, but her fury and hurt pierced him through to his very soul.

"It wasn't like that." He whispered. "I didn't mean it to hurt you." He took a step towards her and she took a step backwards. "You aren't useless sweetheart."

"Oh really?" She stopped and put both hands on her hips. "And how do you figure that? Next to all of these..." She waved her hand around at all seated at the table. "...how much use would you have for me in a fight? If these Lycans or whatever attacked tomorrow what would you expect me to do as they were threatening to rip my daughter's throat out? Sit back and just think 'oh well I'm bloody useless anyway' and watch while someone else defended her?"

Eönwë stood and stared at her stupidly. His whole desire had been to keep his beloved wife and child safe. He hadn't realised that by doing that so effectively he might have deprived his wife of her part in the protection of their child. He felt a sudden agonising guilt. He _should_ have woken her, told her what her happening, not sent her back to sleep as though she was nothing but a child who couldn't cope. By leaving her out he had alienated her.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, but before either of them could say anything further a voice from the door stopped them dead in their tracks.

"Mummy? Why you an' Daddy shouting?" Allie stood in the doorway clutching Bear to her chest, still dressed in her pyjamas with the row of little yellow ducks embroidered across the chest. It had been decided to leave her asleep since she had endured a rather upsetting night.

Erestor immediately bent down to pick her up and take her away from the tableaux in the dining room but for once he was beaten to it as Kim swooped down on them and picked her daughter up.

"_Leave her."_ She hissed at the unfortunate Erestor. "Just leave her alone. I am quite capable of seeing to my own child thank you very much. Or do you all want to take _that _off me as well?"

She imperiously swept through the doorway with a confused Allie in her arms.

Nerdanel jumped up and followed Kim out of the room, only pausing to put a gentle hand on Erestor's arm. "It is well Erestor, she did not mean to take it out on you. She is angry and hurt. I will see to her."

Erestor nodded. "I know." He smiled. "I was witness many times to similar rows between Elrond and Celebrian. Go to her."

Hal had calmly resumed eating his breakfast and Maedhros had already led the stunned Herald around to his chair and pushed him down into it by the time Erestor sat down and helped himself to some food. Maedhros poured some hot black coffee into Eönwë's cup, took the bottle of brandy thoughtfully supplied by Finrod from the drinks cabinet and poured a good measure of it into the coffee.

"Drink it." He said firmly to Eönwë who automatically picked up the cup and took a sip. He had been so stunned by his wife's outburst and the revelations from it that he hadn't even noticed his daughter or Kim's departure.

"Kim..." There was a note of panic in his voice and he started to rise to his feet again only to be firmly pushed back down by Finrod.

"You can do no good there just yet my Lord." Finrod said cheerfully. "Nerdanel has gone to her. My advice would be to leave her be for now. Whatever you say right now will be the wrong thing. Trust me, I know from my own experiences with Amarie. There is nothing you can do but let her calm down."

"She thinks I think she is useless." Eönwë whispered. He looked up at both Elves with something close to pleading in his eyes. "She is my life and my heart, I only wanted to keep her safe, I wanted nothing to hurt her."

Maedhros sat down in the chair beside him with a sigh. "We know that Eönwë and so does she, deep inside. But think about this. She is surrounded by ancient warriors, all of us are trained to the point of excellence; have been trained so for _thousands upon thousands _of years. We outstrip her in years, in experience and, as it may sometimes seem to her, wisdom. I know you wish to protect her but she has a right to know when danger affects her child."

"I know. I should have told her when it happened. I am so stupid when it comes to her and Allie sometimes." Eönwë's voice was broken. "I know that she always felt at a disadvantage and I didn't help matters in the early days as Gary by being her commanding officer rather than a colleague in a situation that was inappropriate. I was falling in love with her but kept thinking that it wasn't the right time to tell her. When she did things wrong, I responded the wrong way because I was too terrified to admit that I was in love with her. Eönwë, the other half of me knew better how to treat her, but now we have _both_ failed her."

"You haven't failed her." Hal had finished his breakfast and was now drinking a cup of coffee. "The solution is quite simple. Chief tells me that Kim was a soldier in the British Army, is that right?"

Eönwë nodded. "She was, but she was not in a combat role."

Hal steepled his hands on the table and thought for a moment before looking up. "But, correct me if I am wrong, female soldiers in the British Army have been combatant for some years now. Your wife would have have _some _training at least even if all she held was a desk job."

Eönwë nodded again. "Yes, only the medical corps are non-combatant, but they don't usually put females who are not officers in combat roles, therefore the women don't have the field training. They're taught weapons of course, but mainly for self-defense."

"And when they get into a theatre of war?" Hal raised his eyebrows in query. "What then? Seems to me that the chain of command will assume that they are trained soldiers and therefore they _could _be put in a combat role? Just as your wife was thrust into such a role in the War of Wrath. Did she learn to defend herself then?"

Eönwë stared down into his coffee cup. "Yes, she learned how to use a sword, but there was no formal training. She had to learn on her feet."

"Then _give_ her some formal training." Hal's reply was concise and to the point. "Chief and I can take her onto the ranges and revamp her modern weapons skills somewhat. You're a damn Brigadier in the British Army for god's sake, don't tell me that you _can't _pull some strings to do that, and there _must_ be people here who can train her in swordsmanship to the point where she can defend herself and the little girl if necessary. I can also teach her some unarmed combat. For heaven's sake man, you _need_ people in this war that's brewing, she's a fighter, she's proved that much already by challenging you. Train her. The women in the old days of the Dunedain weren't incapable of defending themselves, they had to be able to do that out of necessity, is she any less capable than they are?"

A new voice broke into the conversation. "_Who_ needs to be trained in swordsmanship? What did we miss?"

They all turned to see Elladan, Celebrian and a stranger with dark ,saturnine features standing in the doorway. Behind them the tall silver haired figure of Haldir could be seen looming. Elladan had been absent from the dining table that morning because he had gone to the airport to meet his mother, the vampire Maksim and the former Marchwarden from the flight from Paris.

ooOoo

"I can train her in swordsmanship." Elladan said quietly after the events of the morning had been explained to him, Celebrian, Maksim and Haldir.

Eönwë paced around the room restlessly. Out of the corner of his eye through the window, he could see Kim sitting in the garden with Nerdanel. Allie was sitting at their feet and talking to Rasputin who lay on the patio stones flicking his tail lazily. Bob was off somewhere digging up the flowerbeds. Eönwë saw and heard his daughter giggle when the cat tried to grasp the flower she was currently tickling his furry belly with. Kim was sitting with her head down and every fibre of his being ached to take them both in his arms and keep them safe forever.

Even as he watched them Erestor came out to the pergola with a tray which he laid down on the table. He saw Kim jump up and fling her arms around the startled Seneschal who then smiled and enfolded her in his firm embrace. Eönwë felt glad, she and Erestor were always such good friends and he was happy they had made peace with each other.

He sank down on a chair. In all of his millennia since coming to Ea, he had never envisaged marriage being such an emotional roller coaster. He had always assumed that he would eventually marry Arien and then they would have a calm life together doing Maia things and serving their respective Vala...and then she had broken his heart by preferring someone 'more exciting'. Was he _really_ so boring then? He had to conclude that he must have been. He had been complacent in his role as the Herald of Manwe and the Oathkeeper of Eru. Even after landing in Middle-earth to carry out the Valar's will he had just assumed that the calm routine of his life would carry on as normal after his return.

Then he met Kim and suddenly everything was up for grabs and had continued to be ever since. Gary...he... wasn't boring were he...they? He felt mildly irritated with the comparisons he always made between his two halves. Why did he _always _insist on dividing himself into Eönwë and Gary in his mind? They weren't two different people, they were the same...or maybe they weren't quite the same yet, perhaps he needed to work harder on the Gary part. _That_ much was becoming crystal clear.

"My brain hurts." He said sadly.

Celebrian gave a gurgle of laughter, echoed by that of the rest of the Elves and Hal who were also still present in the room.

Maksim said nothing and merely raised his eyebrows. Far from being a organised place, this home of the Angel...no...Maia... Eönwë was shambolic and haphazard. He found he rather liked it. He had been worried that he would be held there in some cell and treated as a captive, instead he had just slotted into this crazy household and hardly anyone had even questioned that he was a vampire. The only hint of distaste he had detected was when that dark-haired Elf...called Erestor or something like that...had handed him a mug of blood and he could fully understand why that should be the case.

Haldir merely sat quietly conversing with Finrod and Maedhros, only occasionally glancing over at the Herald who was now sitting with his head in his hands. Eventually Eönwë looked up at Elladan.

"You are a fine warrior Elladan Elrondian." He said softly. "But Hal is right, we have few warriors in our ranks, you are needed and cannot be spared, as much as I know that Kim would benefit from the tuition of one who was in turn tutored by Glorfindel of Gondolin and Imladris."

Celebrian stood up and smiled brightly at Eönwë. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Then she will have to make do with me."

"You?" Eönwë stared up at her.

Celebrian raised her eyebrows and tossed her mane of silver hair. "Yes, _indeed _me. I was taught by the finest swordsmen in Middle-earth, not to mention one of the finest swordswomen. Do not forget my mother Lord Eönwë. She was one woman amongst many brothers. She trained with _all_ of my uncles including Uncle Finrod over there and even crossed swords with Feanor himself, both physically _and_ metaphorically." She gestured to Finrod who gave her a wink and cheerful salute. "In my youth Haldir and his brothers taught me how to shoot with bows and my father, Celeborn, tutored me in the sword. I used to spar with him _and _my mother both in Lothlorien before my marriage. When I married Elrond, he was much like you my Lord, wishing to protect me as if I was some delicate, irreplaceable piece of glassware, I practiced and sparred in secret with Glorfindel long before my sons and my daughter were born because I knew that my sword arm might one day be called upon to protect myself and my children. As one lady of Rohan once rightly said, those who are not trained in the sword can still die upon them. I believe I have more than enough knowledge to bring her up to standard."

"If you will allow it my Lord, I can also help to train your wife in modern weapons." Maksim spoke hesitantly for the first time. "I am considered to be quite expert in my field."

Eönwë nodded. "My thanks to both..._all._.. of you, now all we have to do is inform my wife that she is to train as a warrior."

"I'll do it." Hal got to his feet. "I think she may feel less threatened by another ordinary human with_ no _superpowers." He winked at the room in general and left through the French doors that led into the garden.

Eönwë turned to Maksim. "I believe that you and I should speak privately. I have many questions for you and I am sure that Lady Celebrian will wish to rest awhile."

Celebrian waved her hand at Eönwë nonchalantly. "Oh I'm fine." She said brightly. "I think Haldir had the worst of the journey. He hates modern air travel."

Everyone laughed at that. Haldir flushed with embarrassment and muttered something about it '_not being natural to fly in a silver metal tube and what was wrong with horses anyway_'?

Eönwë grinned for the first time that morning. "Well be that as it may, it's Monday tomorrow and I have to go to work. I'll bring Chief Knowles up to speed on the recent developments when I get to HQ. We have a lot of planning to do for our next move, we need to discuss the ramifications of last night's incursion by Mossad properly and I do need to speak to Maksim." He rose from his chair and gestured for Maksim to follow him into the study. "After that, I have some fast talking and making up to do with my wife. I suggest the rest of you take this time to relax and recharge. We have some difficult times facing us and we need to be prepared."

He cast one last longing glance through the windows at his wife and was both surprised and pleased when she looked up and gave him a faint smile. This was an encouraging sign, the American was obviously very good at peacemaking. He felt a tug at his arm and looked around to see Finrod smiling rather beseechingly at him.

"Since we are left to our own devices today, may Maedhros and I use one of the cars to travel to London?" He gave the Herald a winsome smile. "Jim is on duty and so is Jan, I need to speak to them both and bring them up to date on last night's events. Maedhros wants to come with me..." He tossed a cheeky grin at his cousin who sighed in exasperation; a tinge of colour had floodedhis pale cheeks. "...I'm not sure why really."

Eönwë looked at them both suspiciously, then decided he _really_ didn't want to know why Maedhros wanted to spend a Sunday afternoon in a police station. "The keys to the mini are hanging up in the hall, I'm sure Kim won't mind if you use it. It may need some petrol in the tank." He called after them as they both shot out of the door with alacrity.

As he left the room with Maksim, Celebrian, Elladan and Haldir had already joined the group in the garden and Erestor was seated beside Kim obviously enthusiastically recounting some tale from long ago. They were all laughing, even Kim. Even as Eönwë cast another glance at the group, she looked across and saw him standing just inside the room. He mouthed the words 'I love you' to her and was rewarded when she mouthed them back to him. He felt a quiet joy inside him at that and was only brought to the here and now by Maksim diplomatically clearing his throat.

"Shall we?"

ooOoo

**The Haven of the Swans, Aqualondë, in the region of Eldamar, Aman  
**

Fingon embraced his son and there were tears in his eyes. Ereinion hugged his father back, silently observed by Lord Celeborn, Lady Galadriel and their grandson Elrohir. Celebrimbor hung back slightly, he had just bid farewell to his great-grandfather, Mahtan, the only bearded elf other than Cirdan in Aman. The rest of Celebrimbor's family, his two uncles and his grandmother would be waiting for him back on Middle-earth and Celebrimbor couldn't keep back a surge of excitement that he was going back and that he would be reunited with them all. Both he and Ereinion carried manypackages, messages and tokens of love from the people left behind on Aman.

Cirdan stood at the helm of his Swan Ship, he had volunteered this time to take Gil-galad and Celebrimbor back to Middle-earth. Despite the fact that neither were his sons, he felt a special bond with both, and most especially with Ereinion. He was doubtful of the wisdom of sending either back into danger after all both had gone through prior to their deaths in that benighted place, but the Valar obviously had their reasons and loyal Cirdan would have been the last Elf in the universe to question those reasons.

"Take care of yourself my son." Fingon said softly. "I will count the days until your safe return to us."

"I'd rather hoped that you would find something more interesting to occupy your time with Ada." Ereinion joked, but the joke sounded pretty feeble even to his ears.

Nevertheless Fingon did manage a tremulous smile. He clasped his son with both arms. "Give my regards to that rascal Finrod when you see him. Tell him he still owes me a barrel of wine."

Ereinion smiled at his father and it was his turn to feel the tears well up. "I will, I promise." Not able to trust himself any further, he turned away and dashed the tears from his eyes.

Moments later he and Celebrimbor stood at the rail of the Swan Ship and watched as the figures of their loved ones and friends slowly dwindled until nothing more could be seen of them.

ooOoo


	31. Descent into the Abyss

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Many thanks again to those who reviewed, as always they are appreciated. Thanks to Chisscientist and Ellfine for spotting the not so deliberate errors. For some reason Fanfiction's publishing application does not want me to join the words were and gild together and yes I did confuse Elendil with Isildur. I will ensure that error at least is put right. The matter of were gild is in the lap of the Fanfiction gods.

The other mistake where I put Oathbreaker instead of Oathkeeper was a brainfart because I had been playing LOTRO and killing Oathbreakers in the game, so my brain just translated it across. Again the idea of Eönwë being Oathkeeper of Eru is one that comes from the brilliant writings and mind of Fiondil.

"The world is indeed full of peril and in it there are many dark places.  
But still there is much that is fair. And though in all lands, love is now  
mingled with grief, it still grows, perhaps, the greater. "

___**- J R R Tolkien, Lord of the Rings**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 31 – Descent into the Abyss**

**A secret Military research facility deep in the Cotswolds, south-west England**

Jeff Harris was backed up against the pristine white wall of the room he had come to think of as his prison cell. In reality he knew that he was being unreasonable in his hostile behaviour because he hadn't been treated badly at the underground secret facility he had been bundled to by his escorts; a facility so secret that he quite simply did not know where in the United Kingdom he actually was. All he had to guide him on his mystery journey was his now innate ability to judge distances and all _that_ told him was that he was either on the west, east or southern coast of England, or possibly approximately sixty or seventy miles north of London.

It was mainly a mixture of fear and anger that fueled his current obstreperous mood, rather than the fact that the research personnel or facility staff had ill-treated him, quite the contrary in fact, up to now all they had done was take blood and various samples. He had been allowed to receive a letter from Lily in which she assured him that she and the nipper were not dead and were in fact very alive and healthy. That had gone some way to mollifying him during his captivity and that disarmingly handsome Brigadier had also visited with his direct superior, the General, and both had reassured him that he would not be harmed.

So when two nervous looking young scientists in white coats and surgical gloves entered his room accompanied by three armed guards, one armed with a tranquillizer gun, Jeff went into full-on, 'I am coming out of the corner fighting' defensive mode.

"It's okay Mr Harris." One of the nervous young scientists put out a placating, rubber covered hand and attempted to sound reassuring, but there was nothing reassuring about the large hypodermic he was holding. "It's _really_ nothing to worry about. What we want to do is try and trigger off the metamorphosis so we..."

"Why?" Jeff demanded instantly, interrupting the young man in the flow of his placatory speech. "Why in the name of God's creation would you actually _want_ to see me change into some kind of hideous, unnatural monster?"

The two scientists glanced anxiously at each other and the one without the hypodermic cleared his throat, pushed his glasses up his nose and started to answer, but whatever he had been about to say died on his lips as he saw the change in Jeff's features. It was subtle, but left nobody in any doubt as to what could and probably _was _about to happen.

A faint smile tugged at Jeff's mouth. He could smell their fear. He could even smell their sweat, and they were _all _sweating profusely. He could also see and smell the blood pumping through veins, moving faster, surging in a tide, swelling the veins out as as their respective heart rates increased.

Sweet-smelling...thick...delicious life red force.

So they wanted him to change did they?

Well...why the hell not?

His face suddenly took on what could only be described as a feral expression. He ignored the sudden sharp snick of weapons being cocked as he leaned forward, his eyes gleaming in their sockets. He didn't fear that they would kill him; they needed him alive, he was of absolutely no use to them dead. The standard bullets in any weapon were nothing for him to be afraid of unless, of course they were silver. In fact the only weapon that would have any effect on him was the tranquillizer gun and even then it would probably only contain enough tranquillizer to put an elephant to sleep. As soon as he was asleep his body would morph back into his human state anyway just as it would do if he died. He also had no doubt at all that the soldier holding that gun would not hesitate to use it. His eyes met the soldier's and the hard, watchful expression in the other man's eyes confirmed Jeff's assumption.

He considered his options. He could _let _them do what they wanted voluntarily, but where was the fun in that? That they were taking a huge risk was totally obvious, he had very little control over his actions once in his Lycan state and only a vague awareness of anything that happened during that time, other than the obvious destruction he was capable of. Deep down he had no wish to hurt anyone, but at the same time he really wanted to show them just _exactly_ what they were actually dealing with; the raw, savage, feral, bloodthirsty power of a werewolf in full metamorphosis. He didn't need a full moon or anything else to trigger _that_ change, not now. He could do it at will.

"You don't need to give me drugs to make me do that." He purred, perversely enjoying the sudden escalation of anxiety in the atmosphere as both scientists hastily stepped backwards and tripped over the three guards in their efforts to leave the room and get to safety.

"All you _need_ to do is ask."

ooOoo

**On the road between the city of Bern in Switzerland to the Great St Bernard Pass**

"I should have gone back with her."

Elrond spoke up from his seat in the back of the vehicle for at least the dozenth time that morning but since he had made the comment just about every hour on the hour during the entire journey back through Europe from France to Switzerland, it was beginning to grate on both Thranduil and Glorfindel's very last nerve. He had made it into a mournful litany that began when they saw Haldir, Maksim and Celebrian on to the London flight and continued as he trailed like a sulky child behind his two friends through the airport to catch the next flight to Bern in Switzerland, that being the nearest major airport to where they were heading. They were to pick up another hire vehicle in Bern and travel to the Great St Bernard Pass excavations with their letters of introduction to Dr Xavier du Pree from his good friend Hal.

Thranduil gripped the steering wheel tighter, consoling himself with the extremely pleasant daydream that it was Elrond's neck he was trying to throttle. Beside him in the front passenger seat Glorfindel just gave a soft sigh of exasperation and a minute shake of his head.

"She'll be fine." The former ElvenKing gritted through his teeth. "For Eru's sake she is going to be under the direct protection of the Herald of Manwe, a Maia, the most powerful in arms in the whole of Arda, just exactly what do you think will happen to her?"

Elrond raised a dark eyebrow of doom. "I suppose the recent battle between the Herald, the others and those damned werewolves doesn't count as being near danger?"

Thranduil pursed his lips and almost physically bit down on his tongue to stop himself from uttering every single oath he had ever learned in every single language he was familiar with.

"Elrond, that battle took place at least thirty eight miles away from the Herald's residence in Hampshire, in a police station of all places. Even if Celebrian had been in England at the same time, which she wasn't, she would have been bloody miles away from the action."

Elrond folded his arms and stared at Thranduil's and Glorfindel's backs mutinously. "And what about this surveillance business?"

It was Thranduil's turn for his eyebrow to disappear into his hairline. "What about it?"

There was a dangerously calm tone in his voice that caused Glorfindel to glance over sharply at him.

"If they are watching Lord Eönwë's house, then they will _also _be spying on my wife." There was a slight note of smug triumph in Elrond's voice, as though he had won some minor battle.

Thranduil sighed deeply and prayed to the Valar for patience. "And so? They'll get a glimpse of the delightful Celebrian in the buff while she's in the shower or see her in her unmentionables before she goes to bed? We should _all _be so lucky. If they take pictures I want a set for my porn collection."

A snort of laughter exploded from Glorfindel, who desperately tried to turn it into a sneeze as he half turned in his seat and got the full force of a red hot furious glare worthy of at least a junior Balrog from the Peredhil.

"She'll be fine." Thranduil repeated. "But if I hear one more word from you about it, you _won't_ be fine because I'm going to gag and bind you and lock you in the trunk of the bloody car."

"Hah! You and whose army?" Elrond demanded, the light of battle in his now stormy grey eyes.

"Oh for _heaven's_ sake." Glorfindel stepped into the fray with pretty much the same despairing courage he had mustered when faced with his Balrog. "What the hell _are_ we? A bunch of elflings? Elrond, do shut up about Celebrian, you are becoming a bore on the subject. She will be perfectly safe and peaceful which is more than I can say for the rest of us in this vehicle. Thranduil, stop making it worse. You have all the tact and diplomacy of a bull in a china shop. And after having listened to you two arguing the toss for two days straight, I would personally like to get some shut-eye." Whereupon he perched his Indiana Jones hat over his face, slid down in the seat and tried in vain to block out the squabbling.

Elrond and Thranduil were both so stunned at this very unusual acrid response from the generally sunny and even tempered Glorfindel that they were immediately silenced into submission. Thranduil said nothing further but there was a slight mocking smile hovering around his beautiful mouth. He glanced quickly in the rear view mirror and intercepted Elrond who was looking right back at him. For a moment they glared at each other, then Elrond stuck his tongue out at Thranduil in a very elfling-like fashion causing the currently twitching mouth of the ElvenKing to burst out into a loud guffaw. In spite of his momentary snit Glorfindel grinned and snickered under the cover of the hat before trying to slip onto the path of dreams once more. Elrond collapsed in the back seat hooting with laughter like a slightly deranged owl.

Glorfindel flipped his hat up momentarily, looked at both Elf-Lords and shook his head. "Some saviours of Middle-earth we are! We're more like Foggy, Compo and Clegg from The Last of the Summer Wine! (1) Eru save us all, the earth is doomed."

For some reason that just set them all off howling with laughter again.

The beautiful Swiss landscape flashed by and the mileage signs gradually started to show the remaining distance to the Great St Bernard Pass where the mysterious depths of Khazad-dum awaited them.

ooOoo

**Khazad-dum**

It had soon become very clear to the excavators and archaeological teams that they had certainly not entered into a large underground cave. What had been assumed were stalactites and stalagmites had actually turned out to be the remains of archways which had led to the very exciting discovery of a large set of stairs leading downwards from what might have been a large entranceway which had a mountain of rubble piled up against it. They could only just guess what might lie beyond those gargantuan doors.

After the first couple of days they had cleared away a virtual mountain of rubble from the top of the steps and the time-consuming job of sifting through it for artifacts had begun. Large teams of archaeologists, many of whome were students from universities all over the world, were working in shifts, laboriously and carefully brushing away dust to reveal parts of carved masonry and cataloguing what looked like iron weapons; swords, daggers, shields and suchlike. A large pile of arrowheads was also growing along with the occasional twisted piece of light coloured metal, usually encrusted with the dirt of ages.

So far, they had uncovered what appeared to be something like a grand staircase which led to a large open hall. The only structures in the hall were deep alcoves that recessed far enough back for the shadows to be deep. The head archaeologist had commented that he believed the hall was actually bigger than it seemed.

The hall itself was long enough as indicated by the depth of the echo that sounded back at them, the floor had revealed itself to be some kind of beautiful large stone flags with sparkling flecks that reflected the light of the torches back to them and shone like a million tiny diamonds. The ceiling was impressive, soaring above them like a cathedral roof. The torches couldn't penetrate as far as the top clearly, but it was already very clear that there were carvings and inscriptions on the walls as they stretched upwards and met with what was the actual roof of a massive cave system. Most of the carvings, whether on the high walls or the walls of the hall itself were quite well preserved and Xavier du Pree was itching to get his hands on them properly, however some instinct told him to wait until the team from London arrived.

As much as everyone was eager to explore the dark recesses of the hall to see what lay beyond, they restrained themselves, there was plenty of time to move forward and see what further treasures waited for them. However it was decided that a small forward reconnaissance team would be sent down the hall just to sound the area out.

As it was, it was far too dark to see from the stairs where the hall led to, but if it led to other rooms...then, _then_ the questions would start to flow. Even now the first carbon dating done on items from the cavern room was showing that their age was off the chart exciting many more questions than there were actual answers. The findings had not been made public and nor had the teams been officially informed of this, but the rumours were out of control. In any case, it was very clear to anyone with any intelligence that this place was old, even beyond normal archaeological standards. A thrum of excitement constantly ran around the excavation area like crackling electricity. With each new find the excitement level increased.

It was into this charged atmosphere that Thranduil, Elrond and Glorfindel stepped. Thranduil had never been into Moria before and neither had Elrond or Glorfindel, but all of them immediately recognised the evidence of fine Dwarven architecture. A dour guard stopped them just inside the man-made entrance to the cavern.

"What is your business here?" His tone was sharp and clipped, he was from Germany judging by his guttural accent. Thranduil glanced down at the state of the art automatic weapon the guard held, reached into his pocket carefully and handed their letters of introduction over.

The guard read them over laboriously and finally jerked his head over towards where a small knot of people were standing around a carved wall and arguing excitedly with each other.

"Dr du Pree is over there." He said shortly pointing at a man of medium height and longish brown hair with his back to them. "They are always arguing, _always_ the arguments. I wish you good luck with them."

He stomped back wearily to his position at the cavern opening without even bothering to take them over to the group for introductions. Thranduil raised an eyebrow at Glorfindel and Elrond and they picked their way carefully over the dust and rubbled strewn floor to the group.

The group ignored their presence which was quite amazing considering the appearance and presence of the three Elves, only one of the group, the man who had been pointed out as Dr du Pree, seemed to react, stiffening his back slightly even though he had not turned around to face them.

Thranduil was just on the point of speaking and introducing himself and the other two Elves when du Pree turned abruptly and as he did so, Thranduil took a step back in shock. His reaction registered with both Elrond and Glorfindel who up until that point had been craning their necks to take in the might of a Dwarven city from a long lost age.

The man that turned to face them was of medium height and gave the impression of being both elderly and young at the same time. He wore his greying brown hair fairly long, almost shoulder length in a ponytail which had started to come loose showering wisps of hair around his face, shielding his craggy features somewhat. But it was his eyes that captured the attention of the three Elves. They were the deep brown of the bark of a tree with greenish flecks around the pupil and they twinkled at all three of them. They held both merry youthfulness, but also great age, wisdom and compassion, the same compassion and wisdom that had attracted Hal to him when they first met many years earlier.

It was a face all three Elves immediately recognised and Thranduil stopped dead as du Pree gripped his arm with a surprising strength and spoke to him firmly.

"Let us speak somewhere more quietly. Where others cannot overhear." He led them to a deserted corner of the large echoing hall near the other end of the large stone staircase and turned to them, holding his hand out to Thranduil. "Well met my Lord Thranduil." He spoke softly in fluent Sindarin. "It has been many a yeni since we last met. I hope all is well with your and your family."

Elrond and Glorfindel stood by in utter astonishment and wonder as Thranduil grasped the man's hand in a bear like grip. There were tears in his green eyes and his voice was hoarse with shock.

"Radagast?"

ooOoo

(1) A reference to a British television series called The Last of the Summer Wine which began as a one-off episode of the BBC's 'Comedy Playhouse' programme in January, 1973. Reaction from viewers was positive enough to warrant a six-part series later that same year.

The programme deals with the second childhood of a group of aging delinquents. The men never seem to grow up and develop a unique perspective on their equally eccentric fellow townspeople through their youthful stunts. The cast has grown to include a variety of supporting characters, each contributing their own subplots to the show and often becoming unwillingly involved in the schemes of the trio.

The main cast of the 30th series consists of British comedian Russ Abbot as a former milkman who fancies himself a secret agent, Hobbo, Burt Kwouk as the electrical repairman, Entwistle, and Brian Murphy as the childish Alvin. Sallis and Thornton, both past members of the trio, continue on in supporting roles.

Compo Simmonite (Bill Owen) and Norman Clegg (Peter Sallis) were principal characters from the beginning until the death of Bill Owen.

The third member of the trio has been, at various times, Cyril Blamire (Michael Bates), Foggy Dewhirst (Brian Wilde), Seymour Utterthwaite (Michael Aldridge) and Truly Truelove (Frank Thornton).

Set in and around Holmfirth, Yorkshire, the programme boasts an unusually large number of regular supporting characters which have included such notable actors as Dame Thora Hird, Kathy Staff, Dora Bryan, June Whitfield, Jean Alexander (of Coronation Street fame) and well known veteran British comedian Norman Wisdom.


	32. Khazaddum

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Well, we have finally entered Moria, or at least Thranduil and the others have and apparently there are a few surprises and no doubt many shocks awaiting them. Is Jeff Harris showing his true colours finally and choosing a side? Or is he just having a bit of fun? Time will tell soon enough. Enter yet another Maia as well, and he has his own story to tell of the intervening period of the ages. The snow is falling heavily here in the UK. At least a foot overnight and more to come apparently. Perhaps just the time to sit with a nice cup of hot chocolate and let myself in through the west doors of Moria which have been kindly left open a crack for me. I found it very interesting when I came to note the location as I usually do at the start of a new section of the story. Normally I put a fairly long descriptive sentence in there, time, location, country etc, but for Moria, all that came to me was the word 'Khazad-dum' and I felt that said it all. What more could there be to say about the mystery, mystique and hidden nature of the gargantuan Dwarven city?

This will be a longish chapter, because I don't believe that the entry into Moria can be dealt with lightly.

"Ah, how good it feels! The hand of an old friend. "

___**- **__**Henry Wadsworth Longfellow **_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 32 – Khazad-dum**

**The First Hall of Moria**

Elrond was the first to break the silence. As Thranduil let go of Radagast's hand, his voice failed him. His realm out of all of the Elven realms had been closest to Rhosgobel where Radagast had taken up residence and which lay at the western end of Mirkwood. The Mirkwood patrols had often encountered the Maia in the diseased forest picking up injured or damaged beasts and birds and trying to help the trees that were being strangled to death by disease and darkness and Radagast had been a frequent and welcome visitor to the Elvenking's court. It had been long since Thranduil had seen the Maia, the last time was just before Legolas had taken his leave of his father and Eryn Lasgalen as it had become after the downfall of Sauron. Elessar and Arwen, the only reasons for Legolas putting off his journey were now both dead and Eldarion, their son had taken the throne of the United Realms.

Radagast had simply turned up a couple of days before Legolas and the dwarf Gimli had left, almost as if he knew he would be needed.

And needed he was, Thranduil had been brave, wishing his son farewell and fending off the young elf's pleas for his father and the rest of the elves to follow him into the west but he had also been utterly devastated at the loss of his son. He had derived much comfort from Legolas staying in Middle-earth until the death of his friend Aragorn and Arwen Undomiel. However the sad truth was that Thranduil simply did not feel the call of the West nor did the sound of the sea bother him in any way. His wife's spirit was lost here somewhere in the forests she had loved so much. How could he just abandon her? _What was there for him in the West_, he had demanded of the Brown Wizard once Legolas and his companion had disappeared along the forest track never to be seen on Middle-earth again.

Radagast had merely shaken his head and placed a strong comforting hand on the King's shoulder. "When the time is right, you will feel it." Was all that he had said before taking his own leave.

"And you?" Thranduil had asked. "What of you now that your task is complete?"

Radagast had simply smiled at him. "Well as to that, nobody has ever _asked_ me what my task was! When it is finished, I will know, until then my Lady Yavanna and my Lord Orome watch over me."

Then he had disappeared into the trees, followed as he generally was, by a virtual train of small animals and birds. The trees graciously bent their branches down in both greeting and affection, for this was the Brown Wizard who had always been there to succour them in their time of need, as had the Elvenking.

Somehow Thranduil had known then that he would not see Radagast again, at least not for a very long time. The ages had marched on, ice ages came and went and although during the first ice age he had gone in search of the Brown Wizard in an attempt to persuade him into safety with the remaining elves on Middle-earth, but he had never found him and finally gave up, believing that the wizard had either already left or had found his own refuge. In their forays out into the white, icy wilderness to look for anything that had survived, the Elven patrols had always kept an eye open for the wizard just in case, but just like many of the Eves who actually found their own way to the safety of Thranduil's protected underground halls, none of them had ever seen or heard anything of Radagast the Brown.

Finding the Brown Wizard here, under a nom du plume and apparently hale and healthy was both a shock and delight to Thranduil, one that completely bereft him of speech. He stood staring in disbelief at the wizard, overcome with emotion and with crystal tears sparkling in his eyes and on his cheeks.

Elrond smiled and held his arms out to Radagast who clasped them with his own, their respective beaming smiles saying it all without words.

The wizard finally turned to Glorfindel.

"Back again my Lord Balrog Slayer?" His deep brown eyes twinkled merrily at the golden haired Elf-Lord who willingly allowed himself to be clasped to Radagast in a tight hug. "I would have thought you would be settled in Valinor with a beautiful wife and some equally beautiful elflings by now!"

"Apparently I just can't stay away." Glorfindel twinkled back at him. "As for the wife and elflings, I have just never found an ellith who would be brave enough to put up with me. Which is probably just as well considering the scrapes I get myself into. You should know that Lord Eönwë is also here, along with my gwadur Finrod."

Radagast threw back his head and laughed heartily. "So the gang's all here eh? I did know about Eönwë, I knew whose house it was as soon as I dropped Bob and Rasputin off there, that's why I was happy to leave them in the care of that delightful lady who introduced herself as the Brigadier's wife. I could sense the Maia blood in that little girl of hers which astonished me. However did Finderato manage to get Arafinwe, Earwen and Amarie to let him off the leash?"

Thranduil finally found his voice. He gripped Radagast's hand in both of his. "I searched for you during the ice age my friend. We sent out messengers but there was no trace of you. I assumed... nay hoped... you had gone back to Valinor."

Radagast smiled at him. "And I thank you for that concern, but as you see, I did not go West, at least not immediately, although I did eventually end up in the United States and then Canada. Instead I travelled east and south in an attempt to run ahead of the glaciers and the ice. I finally stopped somewhere in what is now called Cappadocia in Turkey and there I fell in with the strangest set of people. Tall, like Elves and not dissimilar to Maia, they had built an entire underground city which can still be seen today (1). They had a certain glow about them and called themselves the Annunaki (2). I have since come to believe that they were some offshoot of the Eldar although their ears were not leaf-shaped indicating some considerable cross breeding with mortals. There was definitely a latent power about them and some still live in Middle-earth. They called themselves Shamans and earthbound, although I never got to the bottom of the earthbound matter. They all seemed remarkably reluctant to talk about it all. I occasionally still see one of two of them around and I occasionally visit Vevey in Switzerland where one of them makes his home with his wife and many of his kind. You should meet them, his name is Raquiel."

"Well it seems that you survived nicely." Elrond said gently. "For which we are all delighted. But how is it that you said nothing to Lord Eönwë's wife about who you were?"

Radagast started in surprise. "That pretty young woman is Eönwë's wife? Well bless my soul, it just shows you that you can know someone for millennia and they can _still_ surprise you. So that explains the little girl then. She is Eönwë's daughter, what a turn up for the books! Well the reason I said nothing was because after what happened to Hal I wasn't sure what or who to actually trust. I didn't like to ask for Eönwë in case I had the wrong end of the stick. Besides, I knew Moria had been unearthed and to be honest, I wanted to come and see for myself. I thought it safer to say nothing and if I _was _needed, no doubt Lady Yavanna would have let me know immediately. As it was, she _did _contact me to tell me about Moria being unearthed. She knows that I once entered Moria many many ages ago and thought I would be some use in detecting whether there was any danger there still, in the depths of that place where the Dwarves awoke Durin's Bane."

"Which is why we are here." Thranduil said quietly.

Radagast's face fell a little and his expression changed to one of grim resolve. "Yes, indeed and believe me from what I am sensing about this place, your light and knowledge are _much_ needed and I am delighted to see you all. I am also told that there will be another joining us. Young Celebrimbor is on his way, according to Lady Yavanna and is accompanied by another."

"Celebrimbor?" Elrond exclaimed in delight. "Then it will be a family reunion, for Maglor, Maedhros and their mother are all _also _here, or at least with Eönwë in England. Do you know who the other newcomer is?"

Radagast stared at him for a moment and the twinkle came back to his eyes. "Well...ah...I _think _perhaps that might be better remaining as a surprise. Yes...indeed....a surprise. We will all soon see." He gave them a mysterious and mischievous little smile reminiscent of Galadriel at her most cryptic and turned back to the little group of researchers who had now stopped and were staring at the reunion of Dr du Pree with these three beautiful men with their mouths open. "I think we are gathering unwanted attention. So...I will introduce you to the leader of the expedition, get you some quarters assigned and we will then make our plans."

He stepped over some rubble, went up the steps and headed into a large corner of the room which had been cleared enough to set up an operations base. Researchers and scientists and others whose reason for being at the dig was not immediately obvious milled around the entrance to the area which was screened off and strung with electric light. Nearby, a number of generators hummed giving an incongruous look to the ancient Dwarven hall and adding to the general murmur of noise surrounding a busy administration area. Thranduil and the others followed him silently.

Once they stepped beyond the screens however, the ancient antediluvian, pre-Ice Age city of the Dwarves blended into the harsh modern, brightly lit world of the present Age of Men. The three Elves blinked at the array of technical equipment. Computers hummed away to themselves with constantly flickering and changing displays on the monitors. Wiring was strewn along the floor making it difficult to move without disturbing something. A huge television screen sat at one end of the cordoned area and was flanked with three smaller screens on either side of it. The screen was currently blank as were the smaller screens.

A low murmur of conversation, occasional beeping noises and the ringing of mobile phones vied with the hum of the generators and the sounds of rubble being removed from the hall itself. Two women sat at a large console which also had monitor screens, they appeared to be doing nothing but watching the screens which flickered and changed. Occasionally one or both of them pressed keys on the keyboard which altered the angle of the images on the screens. The Elves could see that the pictures on the screens were real time images of the staircase, the walls and the semi-darkened, unexplored farther depths of the first hall of Moria.

"Security system." Thranduil said softly to the other two. Elrond was none the wiser for the brief explanation, but Glorfindel, he of the many television programmes and movies, nodded in agreement.

Radagast approached a tall elderly man with a shock of silver hair who was standing in front of the largest television screen, deep in conversation with three others, an Asian man with spectacles balanced on the end of his nose and an Oriental woman, darkly, but delicately beautiful in the way of their kind. The other man had his back to the Elves and all that could be seen of him was a very tall figure with long golden brown lustrous hair currently held back in a thick braid which hung almost to his waist. He was broad shouldered and slim hipped and he carried a side-arm, surprising in what was a supposedly peaceful archaeological dig in the middle of Europe.

"Dr Hallam?" The man immediately turned and the Elves could see that he was a fit looking, imposing man in his mid-seventies with silver white hair swept back from a craggy face. Silver brows were drawn together in query, but his eyes were bright and his smile was welcoming.

"Xavier...these must be the remaining members of your team." He stepped past Radagast and held out a welcoming hand to Thranduil who took it and found his hand enclosed in a firm grip. He looked into Hallam's bright blue eyes and immediately liked what he saw. "Welcome to what we have called The First Hall. First of many others we hope and many many more exciting finds. Please let me introduce you to my associates."

He indicated the Asian man. "This is Dr Ram, his area of expertise is usually genetics but he is also an expert in anthropology and we hope to find some evidence of a culture here for him to examine. And this is Dr Shi An Ing, an archeology associate from Zhengzhou University in China." He moved onto the Oriental lady who extended a slender white hand and bowed her head slightly to the tall golden-haired Elf. Her almond-shaped dark eyes slid appreciatively over Thranduil's form and then trailed off to the other two, no less impressive, figures of Elrond and Glorfindel. She shook their hands also and bowed politely to each of them.

"I am delighted to meet you." Her voice was soft and heavily accented and her eyes flickered to each of the Elves in turn who also bowed politely to her.

"And last, but not least..." Hallam gestured towards the tall figure with the long brown hair who was still standing staring at the one of the screens. "...let me introduce you to Dr Seth Falconer who is both a representative of our sponsors, Grigori Enterprises, and also an expert linguist in his own right. It is to his and Xavier's team that you will be assigned."

He threw a questioning glance at the tall figure of Seth Falconer who immediately turned and smiled at the three newcomers. Thranduil, Elrond and Glorfindel were immediately rooted to the spot as what could have been the twin brother of Eönwë, turned and held out a strong, square-shaped and capable looking hand to them.

Seth Falconer was as exquisite to look at as the Maia they had all come to know so well. However, whereas Eönwë now wore his hair short as befitted a soldier in the British Army, Seth wore his hair long. When not confined in a braid it fell in a heavy golden brown mass almost to his waist. His face was both masculine and utterly beautiful at the same time, just like Eönwë's face. His eyes were not as dark as the Herald's, but a lighter blue and the Elves could now see that his face was slightly squarer than Eönwë's and his chin was marked with a strong cleft. His skin had a translucent glow to it normally associated with Maia and the Eldar, yet he didn't seem to come from either race.

"How do you do?" His smile was warm, open and friendly and the Elves couldn't help but respond to it. "I'm delighted to meet you all. I am head of security here at the site and I will have a role delving into the linguistic side. I will also be heading the forward reconnaissance team. Xavier tells me that you have all had considerable experience at combat and research, so I am hoping to add you to my Recce Team."

Elrond recovered first. He bowed to Seth, placing his right hand over his heart in greeting before taking the outstretched hand. "We are delighted to help in any way we can."

Seth smiled and the area lit up. He shook hands with each of them in turn. "Excellent. Well, let's get you assigned to a trailer for sleeping purposes and something to eat. At Xavier's suggestion I've put you all in a trailer with him, if that's okay with all of you. There is a briefing for the Recce Team at 1400 hours here in the Admin area which I would like you all to attend." He turned to Radagast with a smile. "I will take them off your hands for a while Xavier and get them sorted out."

Radagast flapped his hands. "Of course, of course. I _must_ get back to the others in the group. I'm fairly sure that Dr Bauer and Dr Dearham will have come to blows by now." He turned to Thranduil and the others. "I'll leave you in Seth's capable hands and will see you this afternoon for the briefing."

He left the Admin area with alacrity and Seth beckoned to the three Elves. "If you would like to follow me, I'll show where you're bunked and introduce you to the catering trailer so you can get some lunch and perhaps a little rest before we crack the whip, I imagine you've been travelling for a while. If there are any questions, please don't hesitate to ask me."

"_Questions?_" Thranduil said sotto voce to Elrond and Glorfindel. "_Only about a million of them. Anyone else got deja vu here?"_

Elrond and Glorfindel said nothing, they were as flabbergasted by events as Thranduil was but if Seth had heard Thranduil's soft comment he said nothing.

Apparently Moria, werewolves and vampires weren't the _only _interesting developments in Middle-earth.

ooOoo

After leaving the three new members of the team at the catering trailer tucking heartily into lunch, Seth went out onto the road just beyond the tunnel. He stood looking out over the impressive snow capped mountain ranges standing guard over the green valleys below and drew in some deep breaths of fresh air before taking out his mobile phone and hitting the speed dial. Moments later his call was answered.

"They have arrived Joaquim, and it is as we suspected, there is now a presence here on earth, in fact a _number_ of presences."

There was a moment's silence before the person on the other end spoke.

"How is it that we were unaware of so many? Have we not kept watch well enough down through the ages? It was quite by accident that we encountered the Maia Radagast. We were always given to believe that his kind and those who watch over them had long since given up guardianship of this place. How many more are there?"

Seth could hear the mild irritation in Joaquim's voice but cheerfully ignored it. Joaquim had been irritated since the news that there was movement from the creatures created so long ago. They had monitored them for a while and then left them to their own devices, but this new development with the company Angband Enterprises had left them shaken to the roots of their very long lived existence, for, as Thranduil and the others had already surmised, they were sprung from the same clay as the Valar and the Maia, just brought forth at a different time and for different reasons by the Source of All Things, he who was known to the Elves as Eru.

"Are you still there Seth?" Joaquim's voice held a softer tone now and Seth was jerked out of his reverie.

"Yes...yes. Of course I'm still here." Seth responded quickly. "I was just thinking about the situation. I am not sure how many are here, but I have to tell you that these three are not like Xavier. They are not Maia, nor are they Valar."

Joaquim sounded confused. "Then what are they?"

Seth paused before answering. "I believe that they are of the Firstborn Joaquim. They are of the Eldar race."

"_Still_ here or recently come back?"

"Of that I am not sure, but one thing _is _for sure, we _all_ have a common goal. We cannot let earth fall into darkness. If what Xavier tells me is true, then we are earthbound by choice and they are bound to earth until the end, such is their task. So we are not unalike to them." Seth saw the three Elves leave the food trailer and head for the opening into the cavern. "Joaquim, I have to go, my three little lost sheep look like they need a shepherd. I need to gather them up before they go galloping off into the darkness of Khazad-dum awakening god knows what."

Joaquim's rich laughter rang out. "Okay Seth, go and round up your flock, keep me apprised of things and let me know if you need reinforcements. Be gentle with them."

Seth also chuckled. "I will, but something tells me that they can more than look after themselves and as for reinforcements, by the sound of it, we will shortly have more Elves than we know what to do with!"

"May the Source give us strength!" Was the reply.

He closed the mobile phone off and headed swiftly in the direction taken by Thranduil and the others.

ooOoo

(1) **Underground cities dating from the bronze age in Cappadocia, Turkey.**

One of the characteristics of Cappadocia is having plenty of underground cities. It's known that there are more than a hundred of underground settlements in the region and many of them are not open for visits. The underground cities, which are guessed to be used since the Bronze Age, used to be a settlement mostly in Byzantine period, doubtless. In this period, increasing invasions forced local residents to build underground cities for protection and religious purposes. **Kaymakli**, **Derinkuyu** and **Tatlarin **are only three of these cities.

Certainly the most interesting features of the Cappadocia area are the underground cities founded within. Until now even that have been determined about forty underground cities just six of these have been opened for visit. Nobody can know how many underground cities there are in the Cappadocia area. Some say that there is one for every village and settlement in the region but certainly not all of the sites can be described as cities.

The first inhabitants of Cappadocia area have opened deep cavities within the volcanic rocks due to escape from the attacks of the wild animals and hard winter conditions and then they have enlarged these cavities according to their daily needs, they opened new cavities and created the underground cities connecting these cavities with tunnel and labyrinths. Later the underground cities were the place of the hiding of the first Christians who escaped from the persecution of the Roman soldiers and were enlarged to able when were necessary an entire city to live and every kind of fixture necessary for the living of the people has been attached. When there wasn't any danger the people living on the ground in case of the danger have hidden in the underground cities. For this reason all the homes at that time were connected to the underground cities with a tunnel.

In all of the underground cities there are ventilation chimneys reaching place by place to a depth of 80 and until the underground waters. These chimneys were opened due to meet the need of both the ventilation and water. Within the cities that are tepid in winters and cool in summers there are kitchens, cribs, wine houses, depots for cereals, meeting saloons, toilets shortly every kind of living space necessary for living. Within all the cities there are locking stones which can be opened and closed only from inside against to the threats which may come from outside.

The oldest written source about underground cities is the Anabasis named book of Xenophon (Written around 4 B.C.). In the book is mentioned that the people living in Anatolia have carved their houses underground and that the houses are connected to each other with holes: "The houses were built underground; the entrances were like wells but they broadened out lower down. There were tunnels dug in the ground for the animals while the men went down by ladder. Inside the houses there were goats, sheep, cows and poultry with their young..."

**(2) The Annunaki,** are an ancient race of other worldly beings and deities attributed to the pre-Sumerian civilisation. They feature largely in my own completed full length work of fiction, **The Serpent and the Peacock **©, although the Annunaki or Annanage, as they are sometimes referred to, are actually a very real part of ancient Sumerian history and are not fictional.

The Anunnaki appear in the Babylonian creation myth, Enuma Elish. In the late version magnifying Marduk, after the creation of mankind, Marduk divides the Anunnaki and assigns them to their proper stations, three hundred in heaven, three hundred on the earth. In gratitude, the Anunnaki, the "Great Gods", built Esagila, the splendid:

"They raised high the head of Esagila equalling Apsu. Having built a stage-tower as high as Apsu, they set up in it an abode for Marduk, Enlil, Ea."

Then they built their own shrines.

The notion of the Annunaki and their possible history is actually within the public domain. The character of Seth Falconer is one of my original characters as is Grigori Enterprises. Any original characters and plot from my book are, however, copyrighted under UK Copyright law, as is the title of the work, The Serpent and the Peacock ©


	33. Where Angels Fear to Tread

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Just a short note to thank my reviewers who weren't logged in and of course the one who was! I am continuing with Moria for the moment because it's turned out to be relevant. A number of my book characters have clamoured for a place in this modern Battle for Middle-earth. I did try to ignore them, but they have insinuated themselves into the story anyway. In any case, Eönwë and his merry band are badly in need of allies, since Herumor has the human governments and their security services on his side...apart from the Israelis of course, but then they always were a law unto themselves, bless them.

With regard to my book, it is unpublished as yet, but I have high hopes for it and some interest from a couple of publishers, but I am not counting any chickens before they hatch. However I am trying to set up a website for The Serpent and the Peacock, when I get a moment from real life dramas, from which I may consider selling it as an e book. I would prefer to also be published formally in either hardback or paperback, but that takes time and I ain't getting any younger. I am currently in the middle of writing the sequel to the book which is called The Paths of the Moon, obviously that is also under copyright.

The notes at the end are part of the five year research I did in order to write both books and are quoted directly from the Endnotes in the books.

I fully realise that I have taken a leap of faith and included characters that are not to do with Middle-earth per se and this tack may not please all of the readers, their decision as to whether they carry on reading it is up to them. I personally do not believe the discovery of other similar beings to the Valar and the Maiar with a vested interest in earth weakens the story, but only you, the reader, can decide that. My main characters are still Eonwe, Kim and the others, the entry of other original characters is only there to carry the story line along. I felt that they fitted in rather well and considering that Herumor currently has earth pretty much sewn up, more people on the side of good needed to be introduced in the battle because an army of the West is not going to be hovering on the horizon any time soon, but the thrust of the story is still the same. Moria is quite a large aspect of the tale and one which will continue to have Thranduil and Co as the main characters. Eonwe and his little group will carry on much as they have been doing and their further adventures will continue shortly.

"Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth  
Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep."

___**- **__**John Milton, **____**Paradise Lost**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 33 – Where Angels Fear to Tread**

**The Timeless Halls**

Raguel materialised within the Inner Sanctum of the Timeless Halls so abruptly that he almost skidded to a halt in front of Eru Iluvator, currently clothed in the fana of a tall, fair haired young human, something which totally surprised Raguel since the Father rarely took on a physical form within the Halls themselves.

"You sent for me Father?" He dropped to one knee in reverence. His soft red robes folded gracefully beneath him in a pool of material. A thick flag of black hair hung over one bared shoulder and tumbled around his face in a curtain of ebony.

Eru held out one hand to him. "Rise, child."

Raguel was breathless. As the archangel of fairness, justice and harmony, whose task it was to mete out justice for Eru and the one who watches over other angels to make sure they are working well together with mortals in a harmonious and orderly fashion according to Divine order and will and who also brings all the other archangels and angels to account for their improper deeds , he tended to be one of the busier members of the senior hierarchy and as such was allowed a certain amount of autonomy. Eru rarely summoned him without a _very_ good reason.

Eru smiled down at him with mortal eyes. "Yes child, I did indeed. I have a task for you...a very special task. Do you remember Manwe and the others?"

"Of course I do Father, although it has been a long time since any of us saw them here in the halls. I remember that Tulkas was very prone to mischief. Have they returned then? I understood that their task was to remain connected to Arda until the End Time."

Eru raised one blond eyebrow. "Returned to the Halls? No indeed, they still maintain their watch in Valinor which I separated from Arda so many many eons ago although I have requested that they take back guardianship of that place. However, it has come to my notice that their representatives on Arda Marred have come into contact with some of your fallen brethren now earthbound there."

Raguel raised his eyes to Eru's face in surprise and not a little shock, then immediately dropped his gaze again, for it was not wise to look directly into Eru's countenance, no matter how human looking the fana was.

"Sariel, Joaquim and the others?" He whispered.

Eru smiled at him and gently smoothed Raguel's hair back as if he were a small child. "Yes child, Sariel and the others. You were close friends with them were you not? Before they were cast out?"

Raguel nodded and his eyes filled with tears. "Am I to punish them for their transgression Father?"

"No indeed! I do not wish you to contact them at all. At least not yet anyway." Eru threw his head back and laughed until the Timeless Halls echoed with endless laughter and joy causing all present in the Halls to feel lighter in spirit. "What I _wish_ you to do is travel to Valinor and help Manwe and Varda and the rest of my children there by liaising between them and Sariel and the others. A darkness is trying to seep through on my favourite world, Raguel, but mankind no longer believes in a higher power and direction intervention by me would have a catastrophic effect, much worse than the destruction of Beleriand. Oh, I know that some make suitable noises and fill their churches, albeit not as much as they did a few decades ago, but at the end all call upon me to give them peace even though deep within them they have no faith. No, it is high time that my fallen children on earth came back into the fold and their road back is through Manwe and my Oathkeeper, the Maia Eönwë. I wish you to help facilitate this. Eönwë and his small group of warriors will need their help before the end."

Raguel hesitated slightly. "Father... is this the End Time then?"

Eru smiled down at him again and lifted his chin with one slender finger so that he was actually looking straight into his Lord's eyes, although Eru had dimmed his light considerably so he didn't injure him in any way.

"No child, that time is not yet come, however, this dark servant of a darker, more evil Master seeks to pave the way for it. If he succeeds then the End Time will come much quicker. I believe that mortals still have it within them to work for the good of Arda and I have sent Eönwë there to do battle with the darkness, but he cannot do it alone."

Raguel smiled tremulously up at Eru. "Are we to involve...._him_?"

Eru shook his head. "No child, not this time. Semjaza must find his own path. He no longer hangs as a warning in the constellation of Orion, the very gates of Heaven, for those who transgress. There are those on earth who, not long ago, took it upon themselves to embody him within the consciousness of a human and he now struggles with his newfound physical body and all that goes with it. (1) Soon he will tread the ancient paths and seek the knowledge to fulfill his destiny, but not yet. He is not prepared. (2) Certainly not prepared for the kind of battle which is beginning to be waged now. If necessary....if things go badly, then perhaps...but not yet."

"How am I to reach Valinor Father? The portal in the heavens that you opened for Manwe and the others is long since closed."

Eru shot him a mischievous smile. "No, that route is no longer possible since I severed the Blessed Realm from Arda Marred, it will have to be the old way I'm afraid."

Raguel was completely taken aback. Nobody from the halls had travelled like this, not since...well, not since Semjaza and the others had fallen from grace. "You mean....?"

"Yes child, I mean you will have to travel to earth by falling. Although not from Our Grace this time of course. You will go to Eönwë on earth and he will make arrangements for you to travel to the point on the coast of Wales where a swan ship from the harbour at Aqualondë will be waiting for you. You will travel the Straight Road to Valinor, much as the Elves and Maia did in the old days. Manwe knows you are coming. Look on the bright side little one, you will get to meet Elves, now _their_ joyous nature among all of my children is an utter delight to behold."

Raguel laughed in delight. "I am going to see the Elves? Long have I heard tales of their lives and doings on earth."

Eru chuckled at his almost childlike pleasure at the idea of seeing Elves. "Yes indeed you are. You may go now Raguel...oh...and I do expect you to still carry out your usual tasks, you should have no problem doing that from Valinor. And now I must go, there are many other worlds for me to see to. So many worlds...so little time, although I suppose I actually _control_ time...hmm...interesting..."

His voice trailed off as he walked up the steps towards his throne, pondering the notion that he could probably give himself eternity to complete his tasks.

Raguel made obesience to Eru's receding back and began to de-materialise, but as he did so, he saw Eru disincarnate himself into the comforting blaze of pure light that those resident in the Timeless Halls were more accustomed to.

Moments later Raguel was standing on the doorstep of Eönwë's home on earth, hand lifted to press the doorbell. It wouldn't do to materialise inside the house and terrify the occupants half to death.

ooOoo

**The First Hall of Moria**

"Perhaps we should notify Lord Eönwë of these developments." Elrond sounded, as he always did, worried. This time he was joined in his concern by Thranduil. Glorfindel had spotted Radagast and was making a bee-line for him, so nobody knew if he was worried or not. _Probably not,_ Elrond sighed to himself. Trying to get the Balrog Slayer to worry about anything was an impossibility.

Thranduil however was already switching his mobile phone on. He frowned when the display said clearly "No Signal" and then realised that he had already stepped into the caves and had quite a few tons of mountain above him. He moved towards the entrance keeping his eye on the phone's signal and therefore wasn't really looking when he collided with Seth who was hurrying to catch up with them. They fell in an untidy heap half in and half out of the entranceway.

"Oof." Seth's breath was forced out of his lungs as Thranduil landed on top of him.

Elrond let out an involuntary crack of laughter and went over to help them untangle themselves.

"My apologies." Thranduil brushed himself down and hastily dragged the winded Seth up to his feet, dusting him down at the same time. "I was trying to get a signal on the mobile phone."

Seth grinned and handed him the mobile phone which had fallen on the ground during their collision. "I find I usually get a better signal _without _a mountain in the way. May I suggest you go out of the actual tunnel and stand by the side of the road? You should get a decent signal there, I know I always do. However your call may have to wait a while, it's nearly time for the briefing."

He gestured to a large space out of the way of the Archaeologists who were sifting through the rubble and the workers who were busy clearing the worst and the heaviest of the rubble away from the gargantuan doors which led who knew where. Already the top half of the doors were visible and the Elves could make out Elvish runes alongside those of the Dwarves.

Glorfindel had come over to them by this time and he nudged Elrond in his ribs. "Elrond, this is the Dimrill Gate. If what Aragorn and Mithrandir told us is correct, there is a fairly long passageway beyond those door, running for at least a quarter of a mile, then there should be a Guardhouse and then the actual gates which originally opened out near Mirrormere."

He had spoken in a voice far too low for most mortals to hear, but Seth was no mortal and he heard what Glorfindel had said quite clearly. Dimrill Gate... he made a mental note to ask the historians back at Vevey to research the name. However it was becoming quite clear that this place was well known to the three Elves and therefore, either one or more of them had been here before or at least knew somebody who had. He felt mildly irritated. Everything was telling him to make the call that minute, but now he had at least ten people, including the three Elves staring at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat and moved towards the area cleared for the briefing where there was a white board set up and a television. "Okay gentlemen, let's get on with the Briefing shall we?"

Thranduil and the others had no choice but to follow him and take their places beside the other six men that would make up the Moria Forward Reconnaissance Team.

ooOoo

**One hour later....**

"Looks like we drew the short straws." Thranduil joked with Elrond and Glorfindel as they waited to take their turn at being kitted out for the Recce Team after a thorough briefing given by Seth. "Can you remember what I taught you about the guns Elrond?"

Elrond raised one of his formidable eyebrows. "I realise that I now have this reputation as being a bookworm and historian, not to mention a bit of a sissy, but I think I _still _have a fight left in me. I don't like the guns and would prefer a sword or a bow, but I believe I shall manage with the gun." His tone was acerbic and mildly outraged.

Thranduil gave a snort of laughter at the miffed expression on Elrond's face and Glorfindel patted him on the back comfortingly. Both he and Thranduil already looked large and very menacing in their outfits.

Kitting out took another hour and by the time they had finished they all looked like a bunch of squaddies with flak jackets, Kevlar helmets, webbing with pockets for ammunition and rations and bristling with armaments. To Elrond's delight they were also issued with a lethal looking knife which had a sharp edge on one side and a nasty looking serrated edge on the other. He hefted it in his hand, testing the balance and weight of the knife and then slotted it into the scabbard on his webbing belt with a satisfied smile on his face. Now _that_ was more like it.

Glorfindel was utterly fascinated by the fact that the helmets had built-in torches like a miner's hard hat and kept switching it on and off, thereby managing to irritate both Thranduil and Elrond. However Seth, who had been watching them test their weapons, merely seemed amused by the golden-haired Elf-Lord's obsession with the torches.

"You might want to stop doing that." He said mildly to Glorfindel. "We wouldn't want the batteries to run out of charge in the middle of a dark and dangerous place would we?" He decided not to mention the fact that the guns, P90's for each member, also had torches on them.

Glorfindel grinned happily at him. "I have quite good eyesight in the dark anyway."

One of the other members of the team a Australian who was called Carver Grissom grinned over at him. "Eat a lot of carrots do you?"

"Well I do like carrots, but what has that to do with being able to see in the dark?" Glorfindel was confused at the reference, never having been told by his Amme that he needed to eat his carrots because they could make you see in the dark.

"Nothing." Carver chuckled. "It's just that my old Ma used to tell me that carrots were good for my eyesight. Thought maybe yours did too."

The three Elves all laughed and Thranduil, after having quietly assessed the worth of the Australian, decided that he was a man that could be trusted in a tight spot. Elrond came to the conclusion that the Australian man reminded him very much of the Dunedain, especially Halbarad, and wondered whether perhaps Carver Grissom was some descendant, maybe even a distant relative of the current day Hal, now in England. He decided that he would try to have a more in-depth conversation with Carver over the evening meal.

"One thing is for sure." Thranduil drew the other two aside and spoke in a very low voice. "Dr Seth Falconer is thorough and he knows what he is doing. I think we need to find out more about him and this sponsor company...Grigori Enterprises though. The name seems damn familiar, but I can't quite place it yet."

"And here was me thinking that Elves had very long and very good memories." Seth came upon them so quietly and suddenly that he took them totally by surprise. The look on their faces was so comical that he had to bite of the laughter that bubbled up inside him. "Yes, I know what you are, but the explanations will have to wait. Later I will come to your trailer and answer any questions you might have, but now, I would like to get on and see how much of this First Hall we can explore before the day ends. The faster we do that, the faster the Archaeologists can do their stuff."

"You're the boss." Thranduil said, but the comment came out more flippantly than he had intended and the reaction from Seth took them all by surprise.

As fast as a striking snake, his head whipped around. His features seemed to elongate until they looked almost ophidian and his blue eyes glowed with a lambent silver light which leaked out of them. There was a glow about him and a sudden dangerous fiery aura that spread around him like a bright cloak and the Elves took a step back with their hands on their weapons. Yes, there was no doubt that he was like Eönwë in many ways, but there was an edge of danger and savagery to him that was missing in the Herald. On the surface at least.

However, the transformation ended as suddenly as it had begun and Seth sighed softly as though he greatly regretted the sudden metamorphosis. "Yes, I _am_ the boss and for very good reasons which I will explain later. For now, all you need to understand is that I _am_ similar to the Maia you are used to, we spring from the same place, but we are not the same and our situation has been and is very different to those who live in peace in Valinor. Suffice to say that I am a warrior of the order Kerubim (3) and I command the Kerubim who are currently earthbound. More than that I will not say where mortals can overhear."

He abruptly turned away without letting the startled Elves make any kind of reply. He regretted having to assert authority like that, but he knew that being what they were, consummate warriors in their own right, they would be disciplined and understand.

"Okay." Thranduil breathed out finally. "I think we know where we stand with him, I guess this is the time to back out if we want to. He's placed his cards on the table."

Elrond pondered for a moment. "He reminds me of Eönwë in a very bad mood. The Herald is more gentle in nature, but perhaps that's because apart from the War of Wrath, he has not had to fight for his survival. Something tells me that Seth and his kind might have sprung from the same place, but their history is more violent than that of the Maiar. I think their remit was a lot more hands on to perhaps suit what was a more violent time with the emergence of the new race of Men who would have been a lot more primitive than those we knew in our time. However, I have no wish to back out of anything. I think that if he and his kind are on our side regarding the Herumor and his minions, we need them, probably as much as they need us."

"I think you have the right of it Elrond." Glorfindel agreed. "He is made of sterner stuff than our Herald, but still, I would not like to face Eönwë in full wrath either. I think he is more than capable of looking and being every bit as savage and dangerous as Seth just did, we have just never seen it because he has had no need to be. However the little I saw of him in battle during the War of Wrath showed me what he could be capable of. I for one would be interested to hear Seth's story and understand why they came to Arda Marred and how they came to be earthbound, for I have no doubt that Seth is from the Annunaki that Radagast mentioned earlier."

Thranduil rubbed his hands together and breathed into them. The day had turned to late afternoon and the temperature had dropped within the caverns of Moria. It was turning cold and all three Elves detected the onset of the coming Autumn. The Elvenking glanced out of the entranceway to the dying light outside.

"So we are all agreed that we are going to do this? Our only orders from Eönwë were to assess the situation and see if it merited further investigation, but something tells me that Seth would not be here if there was nothing to be concerned about."

The others nodded.

"So be it." Thranduil continued. "Autumn is coming and winter will not be far behind. The snows here fall thickly and the pass itself may become impassable. The Archaeologists will probably close the dig for the winter period. We have perhaps three months as measured in mortal terms to discover what, if anything, lies here in Moria that Herumor can use against the people of Middle-earth. We must assume that such an end would not suit Seth and his kind either. I suggest that we lay _our _cards on the table tonight after the meal. I will contact Eönwë once we get to the trailer to keep him informed about proceedings and we will tell Radagast what we have seen and learned today. I believe he will not be surprised."

There seemed nothing left to say to this and the three Elves silently followed the rest of the team and Seth down the now cleared steps that led into the depths of the First Hall of Moria. A few more steps took them just inside the hall. The glow of the lights in the Admin area penetrated only so far and just in front of them the inky black of a place which had not seen Elves, Men or Angels lay beckoning to them; a siren call pleading with them to come and explore the depths...if they dare.

"Mr Thranduil and I will take point." Seth then pointed to Glorfindel and Elrond. "you two bring up the rear if you please. We don't know how safe the floor is so I don't think fanning out in normal patrol formation would be advisable. Are you ready gentlemen?"

He was answered by weapons being cocked and made ready and torches switching on.

"Then let's proceed, with caution."

And so it was that Thranduil, Elrond and Glorfindel took their first steps into a place that was infamous indeed in the history of the Elves and the Dwarves and they did it in the company of angels.

ooOoo

(1) **SHEMYAZA or Semjaza (the strong) **A fallen angel who is, according to rabbinic tradition, suspended between Heaven and earth as punishment for having had carnal knowledge of mortal women. Azza (Shemyaza, meaning "the name Azza") is said to be constantly falling, with one eye shut, the other open, so that he can see his plight and suffer the more. He is also associated with the hanged man of Tarot. His punishment was also written as being hanged upside down in the constellation of Orion, considered by the Egyptians to be the entrance to the realm of the Gods, his mouth sewn shut, one eye open and the other shut, so he could see his own plight. One of his sins was to teach his mortal lover Ishtahar, the secret name of God which is why his mouth was sewn shut. Shemyaza is of the order of Seraphim. In my book The Serpent and the Peacock, he is returned to human form through an ancient soul transference ritual called in ancient Sumerian Sila Ag Bar, meaning Path of the Soul (direct literal translation from ancient Sumerian into English) and this is what Eru is referring to in this tale. The name and character of Semjaza or Shemyaza is also in the public domain and can be used by anyone in any kind of literature, however, again, any original plot surrounding the character of Shemyaza written by me for the purposes of my fiction is under copyright.

(2)** The Paths of the Moon **is the name of the sequel to The Serpent and the Peacock, in which Semjaza finally gets his act together and seeks the knowledge to fulfill his and the world's ultimate destiny. The tale of Dark Power Arising happens in the timeline between the events in The Serpent and the Peacock and the Paths of the Moon.

(3) **Kerubim - Cherub, Cherubim **_**kerub, kerubim**_** (Hebrew) **A celestial, sacred, occult being in Hebrew mythology; in the Old Testament various descriptions are given of the Kerubim, the prevailing one being that of winged entities with four faces, those respectively of a man, a lion, an ox, and an eagle. In Genesis, they are the fierce warrior guardians of Paradise; in Exodus (25:18-22) their images are to be placed in the mercy-seat and also in Solomon's temple (1 Kings 6:23-35), but their most frequent association is with the throne or chariot of Yahweh (Jehovah).

In Ezekiel and the Qabbalah the Kerubim are represented as the four holy living creatures. "These four animals are, in reality, the symbols of the four elements, and of the four _lower_ principles in man. Nevertheless, they correspond physically and materially to the four constellations that form, so to speak, the _cortege_ of the Solar God, and occupy, during the winter solstice, the four cardinal points of the zodiacal circle" (SD 1:363).

In the ancient Syrian system of enumerating the hierarchies, the Kerubim were equivalent to the sphere of the Stars. In the Jewish Qabbalah a close association is made with them and the four letters of the Tetragrammaton, YHVH; and further with the world of `Asiyyah. In the system of hierarchies propounded by Dionysius the pseudo-Areopagite, the Kerubim rank second in the first trinity: Seraphim, Kerubim, Thrones. But the Kerubim have a still more mystical connection: "the four celestial beings are . . . the protectors of mankind and also the Agents of Karma on Earth" (SD 1:126).

In the Hebrew Qabbalah the Kerubim are the class of angels or quasi-spiritual beings corresponding with the lower Shechinah or Malchuth, the lowest or tenth of the Sephiroth. Again, "the word cherub also meant serpent, in one sense, though its direct meaning is different; because the _Kerubim_ and the Persian winged 'griffins' (the guardians of the golden mountain) are the same, and their compound name shows their character, as it is formed of (kr) circle, and 'aub,' or ob -- serpent -- therefore, a 'serpent in a circle' " (SD 1:364).

The fat cheerful, cute little Cherubs so beloved by modern day enthusiasts bears absolutely no resemblance whatsoever to the Kerubim of latter times. The Kerubim were much to be feared and were only summoned to cleanse as commanded by God. The color blue is associated with the Kerubim, as the color red is with the Seraphim.


	34. Now what?

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **I actually have nothing further to say in the face of the extraordinarily awful review given by the last reviewer. However, bloody but unbowed, I will continue the story. The original characters added in are not going to play major parts, apart perhaps from Seth. The others will be mentioned, but the thrust of the story will remain the same. The race of characters that Seth belongs to is not an invention of my imagination, they exist in Biblical history. This chapter will explain their inclusion and the extent of their involvement which will be quite minimum. At least I haven't introduced any unicorns or dragons and I hope there are no Mary Sue's on the horizon....no...in fact I am absolutely _sure_ there aren't!

"He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. Is not life a hundred times too short for us to bore ourselves?"

___**- **____**Friedrich Nietzsche**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 34 – Now what?**

**The residence of Brigadier Matthews and his wife, Hampshire**

Kim flung herself down on one of the kitchen chairs. She had just put Allie to bed and watched as Maedhros and Maglor left in the Range Rover with their recent, very strange visitor. They were on their way to the coast to fetch Celebrimbor and Ereinion and had taken the visitor with them. He was apparently not staying in Middle-earth, but merely in transit to Valinor.

Erestor poured out a cup of tea and pushed it over to her. "What did you make of our visitor?" he queried casually.

Kim frowned. "Hmm, not really sure to be honest. Eönwë has been very tight lipped about it all. He didn't say much when they came out of the study, but it seemed to me that this Raguel or whatever his name was, is something a bit like a Maia. His name sounds almost Latin American."

Eönwë had indeed not explained anything to the household about his rather strange visitor who had just turned up on the doorstep unannounced. He and Eönwë had disappeared into the study and although his attitude towards Raguel was pleasant, he seemed to everyone there to be a little shaken. As soon as the car carrying Raguel to his ship to Valinor had disappeared out of the driveway, Eönwë had gone to his study and shut the door. He had now been in there two hours and neither Erestor, Kim nor Nerdanel had the courage to disturb him.

Erestor gestured towards the closed study door across the passage from the kitchen with his spoon. "Is he..." The unspoken question of whether the Herald was communing with his Lord hung in the air between them.

"I guess so." Kim furrowed her brow. "I don't interfere with that part of things Erestor, there's a lot I don't understand about what Eönwë does and is. I do worry about it though, because if we all come through this...darkness or whatever it is, then we will end up in Valinor and I sometimes feel that I won't understand or fit it at all. It's like he and Allie belong to this club and no matter how hard I try I will never ever be anything but an honorary member."

The sound of the front door opening and closing heralded the arrival of yet another member of the household, this time it was Finrod who had travelled down from London with Jim. Their cheery conversation at least lightened the atmosphere which had darkened considerably over the past couple of hours.

Jim slid into the chair next to Kim's and gave her a large sloppy kiss on her cheek at which she slapped his hands away. "Ugh, that was horrible, stop it, and why are you two so disgustingly cheerful?"

Finrod took a seat opposite and shot the quiet Erestor a slightly worried glance.

"We are _always _cheerful, even when under surveillance by Intelligence Agencies." Jim said. He poured himself out some tea and gestured with the pot to Finrod who shook his head. "I _could_ ask you both why you look as though someone just died. Has something happened that we should know about?"

Kim pulled a face. "We had a visitor a couple of hours ago. Apparently the Valar are not the _only _ones with a vested interest in Middle-earth."

Jim's teacup was arrested halfway to his mouth. "What kind of visitor?" He asked cautiously.

Kim shrugged and Erestor answered in her place. "We were not really enlightened as to his true nature, but we sensed that he was a little like Lord Eönwë only a lot scarier. The Herald took him into the study to talk to him and the next we knew the visitor, name of Raguel, was leaving. Maedhros and Maglor have taken him with them to meet Celebrimbor and Ereinion. Lord Eönwë has been in his study ever since."

"I see." Jim said quietly. "And do we think this visitor is going to be involved in the current disaster facing us?"

Erestor shook his head. "I know not, we do not know what was discussed but the Herald has been in communion with Valinor for nearly two hours now."

Jim whistled. "Uh oh...that doesn't sound good at all. Where did Hal go? Was he here when the visitor arrived?"

"No he had just left with Chief Knowles." Kim said absently. It was clear to all of them that her attention was more on what was going on in the study than it was on the conversation. "Elladan and Celebrian have gone sightseeing with Haldir looming over them protectively and Maksim is asleep in his room since his days are all turned around due to being a vampire. Although I guess he must have heard the commotion when Raguel knocked at the door. So much for Eönwë's half a day off work."

Erestor stood up and started to prepare a small tea tray which he brought over to Kim. "I don't think that Lord Eönwë will be angry if you take him some refreshments in. You are his wife and you are entitled to ask him if anything is wrong."

"I suppose so." Kim picked up the tray reluctantly, as though she thought it might bite her. The others watched her cross the passageway and knock softly on the study door. It was quite some time before her knock was answered and she had already turned away from the door when it suddenly opened and Eönwë stood in the doorway.

"We thought you might like some tea." Kim began apologetically.

She glanced up at Eönwë's face and was at least relieved to see that his expression was calm, almost thoughtful. He took the tray from her and put it on the small table near the fireplace. She took a hesitant step into the study and then another one when Eönwë said nothing. She quietly closed the door and sat down in one of the armchairs facing her husband's chair. Erestor and the others in the kitchen held their breaths for a moment and then relaxed.

"Who was he? Or can't you tell me?" Kim asked softly.

Eönwë seemed more preoccupied than anything else and she was relieved to see that his expression was not as troubled as it had been before. He looked up and smiled reassuringly at her.

"Has Allie gone down for her nap?" He asked.

Kim nodded. "I thought it was best, she was picking up on the atmosphere when..." She didn't finish her comment and just let it trail off.

"Yes, I imagine she would. She would have sensed what he was."

Kim struggled to find a way to pose her next question. "And...er... what exactly was... _is_ he?" She asked with great caution.

Eönwë looked at her for a moment, almost as if he was trying to decide how to answer her and then he finally spoke. "Raguel is like us...or rather more like the Valar than the Maiar in nature He is an Ainur, a servant of Eru Iluvator and has been sent on an errand to Valinor."

"So he's a Maiar?"

Eönwë shook his head. "No, he is...a little higher up in the hierarchy. He is going to Lord Manwe, who is no more comfortable with the idea than I am."

Kim was confused. "But if you're the same, from the same place...or wherever you all came from, surely you know him. Is he something to worry about?"

Eönwë sighed. "Not as such and yes I do know Raguel, although the Valar would know him better than any of the Maiar. Before...when we were all just part of the music... Raguel and his brethren created their music from the First tier of the Ainur, along with Lord Manwe and the rest of the Valar and also Melkor." His voice dropped slightly at the mention of Melkor. "When Eru selected Lord Manwe and the others to oversee the newly created Arda, we of the Second tier were asked if any of us wanted to join them. I was among those who volunteered, along with Olorin, Sauron, my sister Ilmare and many others. In doing so we left the Timeless Halls at Eru's behest and came down to live in Arda, but many others remained in the Halls with him, to do his business Raguel among them. At that time of course, the only children of other races that sparkled in Eru's thought were the Firstborn, certainly not the Secondborn race of Men, they came afterwards. Not long afterwards as measured in _our_ time, but long enough when measured in mortal terms."

"I see. So what you are saying is that a whole load of the Ainur remained up there in the Timeless Halls with God and you all came down here to earth to do God's will here. So you became different branches of the same Ainur."

Eönwë nodded. "Yes, essentially that's what happened."

Kim leaned forward as though to better understand what her husband was trying to say. "But...where do _they_ come into all of this current business? Wasn't Middle-earth then the responsibility of the Valar?"

Eönwë glanced out of the window. It was late afternoon and already starting to get dark. The Autumn was coming, he could already see that some of the leaves on the trees were turning. He smiled a little when he saw Rasputin chasing one of them, followed by Bob lolloping behind him trying to catch the cat so they could have a scuffle. It seemed to be a ritual with them. Sometimes the beauty of Arda and the creatures that lived on it caught Eönwë's breath and stole it clear away. It was just unthinkable that Herumor and his ilk would take all of this beauty away and make it a dark and evil place where mankind were slaves...or worse. There was no way that Eru would allow it to happen and it was his task to prevent it, by any means possible. For that they needed allies and the human race were too involved with making money or just sheer survival to realise just how insidiously Herumor was insinuating himself into modern Earth's way of life. The mortals of this world did not even realise just how effectively he was taking over and would not realise it until too late.

Dagor Dagorath, the words hovered on his lips even as he contemplated his answer to Kim's question. That was what they were all here to prevent because as Lord Manwe said, the time was not right for Dagor Dagorath to happen. Herumor was trying to make it come about _before_ mankind was ready to fight for their survival. Instead of remaining ready, mankind had developed more and more technical devices and become stagnant within themselves. They did not have it in them to fight the kind of battle that Herumor would unleash on them.

Raguel had mentioned Grigori Enterprises and their potential involvement during their conversation and one of the first things Eönwë had done in the quiet of his study after communing with Lord Manwe was to do a search of the company on the computer. What he discovered was an extensive network of business interests stretching all over the world. There was hardly any high level business dealings that Grigori Enterprises did not have a finger in including dealings with world governments. It soon became very clear to him why they were being thrown into the mix at this time. Eönwë, and the Elves and assorted members of the race of Man here were essentially the military side of things. They were there to offset Herumor's work with the vampires and werewolves to produce a darkness as best they could. He knew that _none_ of them, including him, had the business savvy to fight Herumor on that part of it and Eru was clearly telling him that it was not part of his task, for that he had selected these others, like and yet not like, him.

"Eönwë?" Kim's quiet query reminded the Herald that he hadn't yet answered his wife.

"I am sorry Kim, I was just thinking." Eönwë smiled at his wife. "There is no short way to answer your question I'm afraid. The other Ainur all had tasks as appointed to them by Eru. At that time Middle-earth or Arda was the purview of the Valar, they had guardianship of the world, this you know. Only once during that time did they turn over that guardianship to Eru and that was when he changed the world causing Numenor to sink deep beneath the waves and placed Valinor out of the reach of mortals. After that time the Valar decided that they would not directly intervene in Arda's affairs, they would keep watch, but limit their actions. That was when Sauron rose to power and it was left to the remaining Elves and Men to battle with him at the Last Alliance and you know what occurred then. But still the Valar would not intervene other than to continue to welcome those Elves who wished to sail to Valinor. It was only when it became clear that although Sauron had been cast down, his spirit was still strong that they sent the Istari to try and help prepare Middle-earth for the time when he would rise to power once again, much as I have been sent to do the same this time with Herumor."

Kim sat back in her chair. She could hear the muffled sounds of the household going about their business. She heard the clear piping voice of Allie as she woke up from her nap and came down with Erestor, no doubt to be spoiled rotten by Finrod and the others. Maedhros and Maglor had not yet returned and wouldn't return until the late evening. The sounds of crockery being laid and cupboard doors being slammed told her that dinner was already on the go and Erestor was no doubt laying out Allie's tea on the kitchen table.

All very normal sounds in a world where normality was being threatened and yet only a few in the world even realised they were under threat from an enemy who currently masqueraded as a friend.

"But then there was peace for a while wasn't there?" Kim asked.

Eönwë nodded. "Yes, once Aragorn and the others defeated Sauron, the Age of Men began and the Elves and what Maiar that _were_ in Middle-earth, like Mithrandir, sailed for Valinor. The Valar had no more reason to either watch or take action in the affairs of Men, for it was not their task to do that. Peace reigned for many generations and all of those in Valinor enjoyed the peace while they waited for the End Time. When the temperatures on Arda began to drop, it was reported back to the Valar, who then decided to monitor it again for a little while, even though as far as they were concerned there were no Elves left on Arda to be concerned about and those who remained had no doubt long since faded. So gradually the ice crept over Arda, killing off all civilisations that existed at the time. It erased all evidence of them to the point that when the ice receded and mankind stepped forward once more, it was as though nothing had existed before. However although the Valar had turned away from Arda, Eru had not. He knew that the men who were evolving towards the end of the Ice Age would need guidance of some kind, so he sent a vanguard from the ranks of the Ainur, a second group much like the Valar and the Maiar, but with a different remit. They were to guide Man so that he fulfilled his new destiny in a brand new Arda, now to be called Earth. The vanguard numbered six hundred and they came from the ranks of both the First and Second tier. They settled in a place called Kharsag, somewhere in the region of the Iraqi highlands on the borders of what is called Kurdistan and from there they came down to meet with and interact with the race of men once more. These Ainur were called Watchers or in the Greek language, the Grigori, because that was, simply what they did. They watched and they taught."

"And they're still here." Kim stared down at her feet. "After all that time, they are still here."

Eönwë sighed. "Only some of them remain Kim, those who separated themselves from the mainstream group, two hundred of the six hundred were cast out because they believed that their knowledge should be fully imparted to mankind, so that the human race would survive and flourish. And they mated with mortal women and created giants, bloodthirsty in nature called the Nephilim who then fought hideous and violent wars. By this time many of the existing original group had already returned to the Timeless Halls, but before they returned, they sent out warriors, the Seraphim and the Kerubim, the equivalent of the Valar and Maiar to capture the rebels and they punished them horribly for their transgression. But during the clean up many of the rebels managed to escape justice. Eru then decided that a small number were to be left behind, those who stayed voluntarily in order to catalogue the new history of mankind. They have survived down through the millennia and it is _their _group that formed Grigori Enterprises and now Eru has decided that our fight is their fight too. Raguel is going to Valinor to liaise between the Valar and those Grigori still on earth."

"So what worried you so much?" Kim asked. "That they would interfere? Surely we _need _more people to help fight Herumor? How can this be a bad thing?"

Eönwë got up and went to the window, staring out across the now rapidly darkening garden outside. "Raguel is very senior in the ranks of the Ainur Kim, even more senior than Lord Manwe. He is in charge of the Ainur and punishes those who transgress. His presence down here on earth signals that Eru is vastly concerned about the events that are unfolding and I was concerned that the End Time would be released if he sent the Ainur Host down before we had a chance to help mankind help themselves. The subsequent devastation and cleansing would be hideous to witness. However, it seems that Eru is content to let us deal with it. Raguel is only going to help the Valar. The Grigori from Grigori Enterprises have been unwittingly involved by sponsoring the opening of Moria as part of their normal Archaeological interests. Lord Manwe has asked me to meet with the head of their company, a man called Joaquim de Salvo, in order to bring him up to speed on what has happened. It is the Grigori who will deal with the business side of Herumor's bag of tricks, since we alone are not equipped to do that. They will not be involved in the battle between Herumor's forces, this battle is one that we must deal with alone, although we will be able to receive intelligence from the Grigori network to aid us. The only one of their people who will be _actively _involved will be their representative currently at the Moria excavations. This world, this modern Middle-earth is no longer the responsibility of the Ainur no matter what form they take. Make no mistake, we are here merely to help mankind realise their danger and encourage them to take action on their own account before it's too late. "

"Well it sounds as though we won't have to worry about Herumor taking over all business on earth." Kim said stoutly. "And that can only be a good thing. I don't fancy the Angelic Host descending down to earth to do a clear out at all. It sounds rather too drastic and violent to me. Do we know _anything_ about this representative?"

Eönwë picked up his mobile phone and looked at his call list. "No, but I have two missed calls from Thranduil and I have a feeling he's about to fill me in on that. I should call him back."'

Kim got up from her chair and started collecting the tea things. "I'll go and help with dinner in the meantime. Will you be giving Allie her bath tonight?"

A brilliant smile creased Eönwë's face. "You mean I _don't_ have to fight for the privilege of bathing my daughter with other assorted members of the household?"

Kim giggled. "Not if you hurry up, otherwise I can't promise anything."

He flung the mobile phone back on the desk. "In that case, phoning Thranduil can wait."

Kim laughed and they left the study together. Allie had finished her tea by that time and crowed happily when her father swooped down on her and carried her off over his shoulder, fireman style, for a bath. They could hear her shrieks of laughter all the way up the stairs.

Erestor exchanged relieved glances with Finrod and the others and continued preparations for the evening meal. Whatever had put the Herald in a sombre mood had obviously now lifted. The sound of a car arriving outside in the driveway meant that Elladan and Celebrian were back. It would no doubt be a busy evening again as the Herald briefed them on the latest events. At least the worst of the surveillance appeared to have stopped, only the electricity van still remained in situ behind the hedge on the roadside. So far, the vanguard of their opponents had stopped attacking, but they all suspected that was the lull before the storm. Everything now had halted and the various groups seemed to be waiting for something. Erestor had a horrible suspicion that the something they were waiting for was buried deep in Moria and had been buried there all this time, along with the Balrog that Mithrandir had defeated.

It was a suspicion shared by Eönwë and more than a few others. A lot would hinge on what was found in Moria and who managed to reach it first.

ooOoo


	35. Evil Overlord Basics 101

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Just for information, the reason for adding the new characters came in because it occurred to me that the 'religious' aspect of Tolkien's works in ME seemed to end abruptly with the advent of the Age of Men and since I had already indicated earlier in Dark Power that the Elves survived during the Ice Age, it suddenly occurred to me that Eru probably wouldn't have sat by and just given up on the planet or neolithic man as he crawled out of the ice and the Valar were certainly still existing over there in Valinor, so I had to find some way of balancing the whole thing with religion as it developed from the Age of Neolithic Man and it made sense to bring in the biblical angle. Since I had already done the research into the origins of ancient religion it seemed like a no-brainer to bring some of my book characters, since they kinda fitted into the story. Unfortunately you can't just slam in some character without giving some back history otherwise readers get a bit confused, so the back history may look to some readers as though I was pushing a whole other story line into it.

What I _am_ trying to convey in this story is that unlike the time of the One Ring, the Powers That Be cannot just rush in and free modern Middle-earth from tyranny with a display of their supernatural powers or with an army from Valinor, because the kind of tyranny that rules in these modern times is not _always _one of open violence or even the kind of overt evil that there was in the time of Aragorn and the fight against Sauron. It was much more clear cut in that time. There were the baddies who were dark and the goodies who were light and the common people needed protection so they joined whichever side offered the most protection, many of them probably didn't realise that joining the baddies would actually lead them to slavery or death or worse.

The lines in modern times are _much _more blurred. These days the danger to the common people can often come from the direction of the authorities who are meant to _protect _them and their interests and sometimes all a budding Evil Overlord has to do is manipulate big business and the economy to bring people under the whip. Herumor has realised this, so the battle for Eönwë and his merry little band is not straightforward, Eru knows this even if the Valar don't.

"The artifact which is the source of my power will _not_ be kept on the Mountain of Despair beyond the River of Fire guarded by the Dragons of Eternity. It will be in my safety-deposit box. The same applies to the object which is my one weakness.

When I employ people as advisors, I will occasionally listen to their advice.

I will keep a special cache of low-tech weapons and train my troops in their use. That way -- even if the heroes manage to neutralize my power generator and/or render the standard-issue energy weapons useless -- my troops will not be overrun by a handful of savages armed with spears and rocks.

My Legions of Terror will be trained in basic marksmanship. Any who cannot learn to hit a man-sized target at 10 meters will be used for target practice.

I will maintain a realistic assessment of my strengths and weaknesses. Even though this takes some of the fun out of the job, at least I will never utter the line "No, this cannot be! I AM INVINCIBLE!!!" (After that, death is usually instantaneous.)

I will not fly into a rage and kill a messenger who brings me bad news just to illustrate how evil I really am. Good messengers are hard to come by.

If my trusted lieutenant tells me my Legions of Terror are losing a battle, I will believe him. After all, he's my trusted lieutenant.

I will make sure I have a clear understanding of who is responsible for what in my organization. For example, if my general screws up I will not draw my weapon, point it at him, say "And here is the price for failure," then suddenly turn and kill some random underling.

If I learn the whereabouts of the one artifact which can destroy me, I will not send all my troops out to seize it. Instead I will send them out to seize something else and quietly put a Want-Ad in the local paper.

The deformed mutants and odd-ball psychotics will have their place in my Legions of Terror. However before I send them out on important covert missions that require tact and subtlety, I will first see if there is anyone else equally qualified who would attract less attention.

If I must have computer systems with publicly available terminals, the maps they display of my complex will have a room clearly marked as the Main Control Room. That room will be the Execution Chamber. The actual main control room will be marked as Sewage Overflow Containment.

I will be secure in my superiority. Therefore, I will feel no need to prove it by leaving clues in the form of riddles or leaving my weaker enemies alive to show they pose no threat. "

___**- **__** Excerpts from the **____**Evil Overlord List, Copyright 1996-1997 by Peter Anspach **_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 35 – Evil Overlord Basics 101**

**A Police Station in the middle of London**

As surprising as it might have seemed to his family and friends back on Valinor, it hadn't taken long for Finrod to slot into the role of police officer on modern Middle-earth or be accepted among the police officers who worked in the same station. Even the women had become used to the beautiful Elf-Lord, although he still made feminine hearts beat a little faster when he walked by or gave them his best winsome smile. However, as he had made a good job of being a King and brave and loyal friend, he also made a good job of being a law enforcer and people on his 'patch' had begun to know him as both fair of face and fair in his dealings. Even the local criminal fraternity had a grudging respect for him, or at least those who had been on the wrong end of an Elf-Lord's wrath certainly did.

He, Alun, Jim and Jan were excellently placed as a team because they had access to things normally not given to the general public, such as criminal records and advance notification of events or crimes being committed all across the UK and Europe. They had contacts with Interpol, the security agencies and Military Intelligence. The network was wide and invaluable to Eönwë in his battle against the darkness, because Herumor was certainly not above using every single bit of modern technology and business know-how to gain the upper hand.

A lot of Finrod's work was routine, but he found he actually enjoyed that part of it. He was partnered with Jim and the two got on like a house on fire. More than that, Finrod enjoyed being of some use, rather than just yet _another_ Prince of the Eldar in Tirion. The number of royal Elven princes in Valinor had increased exponentially as Elves had sailed for the Undying Lands or been reborn. Oh for sure, he sat in the councils over in Valinor and even contributed to the applying of the law, but quite frankly he had been bored out of his mind. He had been a hands-on ruler, someone who went out and got the job done rather than ordered others and then sat on a throne waiting for the results.

Finrod was an Elf of Action, there was no doubt about that and his current task on Middle-earth fulfilled him in a way he had thought was lost to him for the rest of time.

The morning after Raguel's visit, Finrod had completed writing his reports up and was patiently waiting for the more laborious Jim to finish his. It had been interesting for Finrod to contemplate the young policeman as the direct descendant of the line of Barahir and after realising that this was exactly what Jim was, it had been easy to understand why he had felt so close to the young man. He had no idea how true the assertions from young Elladan were that Jim bore a strong resemblance to Elessar, because Finrod had never known Elrond's last fosterling. It was much easier to spot his friend who saved his life during the Dagor Bragollach in the young man. He felt comforted by the fact that Barahir's House had continued on.

Jim felt Finrod's bright eyes on him and looked up. "What now?" He asked suspiciously.

Finrod grinned widely. "Oh nothing, I was just thinking about the old days."

Jim groaned. "Oh god no, you're not going to have another ramble down memory lane and tell me how much like my ancestor Barahir I am again are you?"

"I might do." Finrod said defensively. "Anyway, you _are _rather like him. I recognise the same reckless courage that led your ancestor to rush up and save my life against really terrible odds."

Jim blushed to the roots of his hair. "Gawd, I have a lot to live up to, what with you and the rescue and Elladan rambling on at me about how bright and brave Aragorn was. I _am_ just myself you know, a man from a different time."

"I know you are." Finrod said soothingly. "But in truth I did not know Aragorn, I did, however, know Barahir and you are very like him. You have an illustrious ancestry my friend, don't knock it. If it makes you feel any better, I don't actually remember Barahir being such a pig when he ate Kentucky Fried Chicken."

Jim cackled maniacally at the mental vision of Barahir and Finrod tucking into a KFC Bargain Bucket at Finrod's court. "That was only because they didn't _have_ KFC in those days. If they had, he'd have been sucking the meat of the chicken bones as enthusiastically as the rest of us."

"Probably quite true." Finrod chuckled. "And I suppose we _did _have a form of fried chicken back then, I just never saw him eat any of it."

"Ah, well, it wouldn't have been fried to the Colonel's special recipe though would it? So it probably wasn't so delicious that you wanted to scrape the last minute piece of chicken off the bones." Jim hit the return button on his keyboard with a flourish. "There, all done, and having said that, I _do_ feel a wee bit peckish."

Jan marched into the office carrying a sheaf of paperwork and slumped down at her desk opposite Finrod. "So what are we discussing now? Anything interesting come up?"

"Kentucky Fried Chicken."

"Food"

Finrod and Jim both spoke at the same time, something that often happened between them these days.

Jan sighed. "You do realise that this talking at the same time is really spooky right? It's like women who spend a lot of time together all have their periods at the same time. You two are gradually morphing into the same person. "

Finrod beamed at her. "Only I am _much_ prettier." Whereupon Jim rolled up a piece of paper and catapulted it off the end of his ruler at the Elf-Lord. It hit him square between the eyes.

"Ouch. Was Aragorn good at using a bow?" Finrod rubbed the offending sore spot.

"I have no idea. I suppose he must have been. Ask Elladan, he is the current authority on all things Aragornish." Jim got up and started to put his jacket on. "I prefer the sword meself. " He picked up the ruler and brandished it around like a sword, accidentally slapping Alun Davies on the shoulder as he approached from behind. "Anduril! Flame of the West!"

"Jim." There was a note of long suffering warning in Alun's voice. He snatched the ruler out of Jim's hand, snapped it in half and threw the two pieces in the waste-paper bin.

Jim snapped to attention and whipped up a mock salute. "Yessir, sorry sir."

Jan gave a soft giggle and bent her head over her paperwork and Finrod uttered softly under his breath that this was _hardly _the way to handle the famed sword that cut the ring off Sauron's hand at the Last Alliance, causing Jan to giggle even more.

Alun sighed deeply. "Well _when _you have finished playing at sword fighting with the pretend Anduril, I'd like you to check the Interpol reports. Unless the very efficient Officer Finrod has already done so of course."

Finrod shook his head. "I was going to do it after lunch. Jim has a hankering for fried chicken, but I can do it now if you wish me to."

Jim pulled a fierce face with his tongue out at Finrod from behind Alun's back which Finrod blithely ignored. Instead he gave Alun his sunniest smile making the older man instantly suspicious. He turned around swiftly just as Jim pulled his face back to normal.

He decided to stand on his dignity as a senior police officer. "I don't care _which_ of you does it, just as long as it gets done..._today_. We can't afford to miss any kind of unusual activity. Just because the enemy is quiet doesn't mean that he isn't up to something. You know fine well that Lord Eönwë is going to grill us all tonight when we have the evening meeting. We are his eyes and ears out in the civilian world, he relies on us for intelligence."

"Dear_ god_.... well he's shit right out of luck with these two then." Jan said sotto voce.

Alun struggled with the laughter that rose up at the rather astute observation, but finally managed to get it under control.

"Be that as it may DS Hall, I don't want to be standing there in front of a Maia of the standing of Eönwë with egg all over my face if something has happened somewhere and I didn't know about it because you lot are too bloody lazy to click on the link for a website."

He turned and went back into his office shaking his head in despair and muttering about not being able to get the staff these days.

"There are a lot of chicken references flying back and forth today." Remarked Jan casually, as she leafed through the reports on her desk.

"It's all Fin's fault, he was the one who started it by mentioning Kentucky Fried Chicken, apparently my ancestor didn't eat it as messily as I do." Jim said mournfully.

It was Jan's turn to shake her head despairingly. "Did they actually have KFC in those days?"

"We did have something similar to fried chicken." Finrod opened up the browser on his computer and put in the password for the Interpol Intranet website. "I was more a venison type of Elf myself. Chicken was only for sissies."

Jim sighed and sat down on the edge of Finrod's desk. "Are you _really_ going to do that before lunch? A man has to eat you know, keep up his strength and all that jazz."

"Er...guys..." Jan interrupted before Finrod managed to answer. She was holding one of the reports in her hand and her eyes were scanning down the fine print rapidly.

Finrod glanced sharply up at the note in her voice. "What is it?"

She pushed the paper over to him and Jim leaned over his shoulder while both read down the single page with growing concern.

The Interpol report detailed events occurring at a small village up near a mountain pass not far from the border post of Trieste. Apparently the village, part of a rural farming community which was isolated and often cut off from the main roads by snow, had been out of contact for a few days with the local provincial authorities in the nearest large town. The police had eventually decided to send in some officers in and a snow plow to check that everything was all right, but when they got there they found the village deserted with signs of bloodshed in the houses and remnants of bloodstains out on the streets. When they had called in reinforcements and investigated further they had discovered two terrified small children huddled in a cupboard in the cellar of one of the cottages. They had obviously been put there by their parents, but no signs of any other kind of life.

"They were drawn by the smell and the interest of a pack of local dogs to an outhouse behind the local inn and when it was opened up, it was stacked with human remains. The pathologist examined the remains and described them as having been virtually torn to pieces." Finrod read out and there was a distressed note in his voice. Both Jim and Jan had grown pale. "However there were not enough remains to account for the whole population of the village which had comprised at least a hundred and five including two small children and a baby. It was also concluded that the remains were all female and that the two children were obviously the sole survivors. It was not known what had happened to the men of the village, there was no trace of them nor was there any sign of the baby. The other children are too traumatised to be questioned and are currently under the care of the local social services and currently being treated by Psychologists and doctors in the hospital."

"The Lycans. It has to be." Jim said grimly. "So much for everything being quiet. Apparently our friend Herumor has decided to increase his army of werewolves on the sly. He picked a remote village knowing full well that it would take some time before the authorities realised anything was going on."

Finrod nodded bleakly. "This is just the beginning, the fact that the men were taken and the women killed indicates that he is indeed increasing his army. But taking the baby, I know not why they would take a child as small as that and leave the others."

"They didn't leave the other children though did they?" Jan pointed out. "The mother must have hidden the kids before she was taken and killed. Those children were damned lucky that the provincial authorities didn't wait much longer to send the police in. God only knows what horror those two poor little kids witnessed."

"I don't think God has anything to do with it." Finrod said grimly. "Go and take this into Alun would you Jim? He needs to see this."

Finrod handed the paper over to Jim who took it and headed into Alun's office and then scanned down the website homepage to see if the incident was mentioned in the index. When it wasn't, he punched the name of the village into the search facility which brought up a number of reports on the village, but the one that headed them all was the report of the decimation of the village.

Jan peered over his shoulder. "Anything else there?"

Finrod shook his head in disappointment. "No, not really, just that the incident is under investigation and descriptions and names of the missing men have been released to all border posts and police departments across Europe and the Near East. This report we got is our notification of the incident, although it was sent to New Scotland yard originally for dissemination. Nice of them to finally release the report to us, considering _they_ got it a week ago. There is a link to a list of the names and descriptions on the Interpol website though which _may_ be more helpful. I will print it out and we can take it to the Herald tonight."

Alun came out of his office having scanned the report. "Nice work Jan, for spotting that." He bent over Finrod's shoulder to look at the screen. "Anything further on the Interpol official site?"

Finrod shook his head. "Not much, just these descriptions and photographs I am printing out now. All police authorities within Europe and the Near East have been sent the actual report."

The printer on his desk spewed out a number of pages with photographs on them and one last sheet with just the photograph of a very young baby, not more than six months old on it. Finrod picked that piece of paper up and his face was stony. Knowing who Herumor had and probably did serve, the idea of what they may have done to this young one filled him with rage.

Jim put his hand on Finrod's shoulder. "I know, it just doesn't bear even thinking about." He said softly. "And this is the 'businessman' that Earth's current governments and security services are giving their trust to."

"Well to be fair to them, I doubt they realise just what his nature is and what he is capable of." Alun replied practically.

"They don't _want _to know." Jim spat out bitterly. "All they think about is money, they don't care about the ordinary people in this world. I wonder how they'll feel once he's converted every ordinary living being into a monster or murdered them in cold blood. Their bloody wealth and power won't protect them when the wolves are _literally_ baying at the door."

Finrod stood up. "Well then it is up to us to ensure that they do know what they are dealing with, before it's too late."

Alun sifted through the papers, glancing briefly at the photographs. He was thoughtfully chewing on his bottom lip. "I wonder whether Maksim would be able to suggest what they might have done with the baby. After all, he and his kind have been fighting the werewolves for centuries. It might be worth getting his opinion on where Herumor may strike next and more interestingly why he is concentrating on the werewolves and not the vampires."

"That's very true." Finrod agreed. "So far it has _all_ been about werewolves, All we know about Thuringwethil and her spawn is that they agreed to let Herumor take her remains and that they had aligned themselves with him. Why are there not armies of vampires wandering around Europe turning people in small remote villages? After all, their modus operandi is a lot less messy than that of the werewolf."

"That's a very good point. What has he done with them all? Why are they so quiet?" Alun shuffled the papers together and handed them to Finrod. "Stick all of this in a file would you, but make a copy first. We'll put that copy in the filing and take the other to Lord Eönwë. After that you lot can head out and get some lunch, only I need at least one of you to stay and answer the phone."

"I'll stay boss." Jan volunteered. "I can answer the phones while Laurel and Hardy here go and grab a bite to eat. I'm waiting for a call anyway."

"Ooh, Maedhros and Jan sitting in a tree..." Jim began in a sing-song voice and only subsided because she got up from her desk and slapped him upside the head before he could sing any more.

"Shut it you." She snapped, although there were two bright spots of colour on her cheeks. "I don't care if you're descended from a _million_ Aragorns, I'll bet that he wasn't _half _as annoying as you are!"

"Barahir could be very annoying if he wanted to be, but I thought that was just because he was a man." Finrod fanned the flames of the spat with enthusiasm.

"Just go to bloody lunch _both_ of you." Alun growled. "Before I decide to not let you have a lunch break at all."

Jim flopped down on his chair and scowled. "I'm not sure I _feel_ like eating after reading that report."

"Oh no you don't." Finrod lifted him out of the chair by the scruff of his neck. "I'm not sitting here all afternoon listening to you complain because your stomach is growling with hunger. Anyway, I think we could all do with a breath of fresh air."

He dragged Jim towards the exit and Jan settled down to sorting some of her own paperwork out.

"Good luck with that Finrod." She muttered under her breath. "_Finding_ a breath of fresh air in the middle of London might take some detective work above and beyond even _your_ capabilities."

ooOoo

**The Head Office of Angband Enterprises, New York City**

It had been many months since Sheldon Sawyer had made that first, and last for him because he never actually left, disturbing visit to the CEO of Angband Enterprises. At that time, he had been filled with an unnamed fear in the presence of Lord Herumor, as he styled himself, but now all he felt was numb. Sometimes it felt as though he had entered some awful dream from which he could not awake. He dared not think of his family these days. He had deliberately separated himself from them when he realised that Herumor now had a hold over him although it had done no good really. His thinking at the time was that he could not escape his fate, but at the very least he could leave the door open for them.

To all official intents and purposes, Sawyer was now the official 'face' of Angband Enterprises, thereby allowing Herumor to deal with the real running of his empire and legions of the damned. It was Sawyer who met with businesses, dignitaries, government officials, minor potentates and Royalty. During those meetings he gave out Herumor's policy decisions and made the offers Herumor told him to, always aware that any deviation by him from the proscribed instructions would result in his very painful death, or perhaps something even worse than death. Sawyer was no fool, he now knew that the bodyguard that stuck to him like glue was a hideous hybrid of two long forgotten races; something Herumor called an orc. He had no doubt at all that if he did not do what Herumor wanted the orc was quite capable of slaying him on the spot and, since Sawyer also knew that the orc was a cannibalistic creature, disposing of his remains by consuming them.

In essence he wouldn't have cared less what happened to him, but he did not only have himself to think about. Even though he was estranged from his family, Herumor knew who they were and they were the Sword of Damocles that was held over his head with the inference that if he did not co-operate his family would be given to the orcs that served the Lord. He would be left until last; forced to watch while those awful creatures did terrible things to those he loved.

So he co-operated, because he could not see any other way out.

He was not privy to the innermost decisions of Herumor of course, the Black Numenorean did not discuss his decisions with his subordinates. Mostly Sawyer just acted as the acceptable face of a very evil personage who had terrible designs on the world. However the deals that he offered governments were very sugar-coated and the people in power across the nations were greedy enough to want to grasp onto the offers with both hands, even though deep down they must have known they were sleeping with an enemy so hideous that they would normally have shrank away in horror from him.

They didn't shrink from Sheldon Sawyer though, with his smart exterior, excellent business acumen, pleasant smile and comforting strength, even though, if they had looked closely enough, they would have seen the fear and desperate pleading for help deep in his eyes. All they saw was the rationality and goodwill on the surface that hid the irrationality and malevolence that was Herumor underneath.

And so governments were duped and in turn when opposition in the form of those wretched creatures of light started to threaten Herumor's plans for world domination, those governments duly set into action their own security and intelligence services against them; the British government among them. So far Herumor had been delighted with the results of Sawyer's labours on his behalf.

The only fly in the ointment so far were the Israelis who seemed unimpressed with Sawyer and Angband Enterprises. They alone had many questions and did not seem to care about sweeteners and promises of power and wealth. Perhaps it was because the Israelis had always had to fight to get whatever they wanted, or perhaps it was just because the spiritual side of their religion allowed them to see what actually was in front of their eyes. Whatever the reason, they remained staunchly separate from the countries who were currently very busy dancing with the Devil in the pale moonlight. Herumor had faith that they would eventually align themselves with him. What choice did they have once they realised that they were surrounded by enemies on every side, not just those in the Middle East, but also those countries further afield who hitherto had supported them?

There were other countries that remained separate of course. Mostly these were the poor African nations who had very little offer in the way of resources or wealth and power to Herumor. He dismissed them as being of no importance. The world of men had dismissed them as Third World and so they _were_ unimportant. He would deal with them when the time came. They were superstitious and very tribal in nature, it would not be hard to overcome them.

It never occurred to him that he might have been making a mistake discounting any of these nations.

In the meantime, Sawyer had become Herumor's version of the Mouth of Sauron, but while the Mouth had been a twisted aberration with his soul distorted to the point where it caused his whole aspect to be hideously ugly and deformed, Sawyer remained the calm, smart looking businessman. Altogether much more dangerous than the obviously evil Mouthpiece of Sauron could ever have been and certainly much more effective with the people of a modern Middle-earth who were ever swayed by outward appearances.

Herumor's armies were beginning to grow. He had been very careful not to perpetrate any more attacks in urban areas of large cities. That had admittedly been a mistake, although it had an upside in that the resistance from that upstart Maia Eönwë had been noted by his own superiors and had caused him to be put under surveillance. Herumor had rejoiced over that for days on end. However now his commanders were seeing to it that the only targets for new recruits to his Lycan army were those who were unlikely to be missed, at least for a little while, and in this day and age of school massacres and drive by shootings, any foray made by the Lycans could be covered up as someone having gone crazy and killed everyone around him in a fit of madness. It was beautiful...a work of art almost. These stupid sheep that called themselves men were the architects of their own downfall. He hardly even had to lift a finger.

But now, something else had happened, something that Herumor had not accounted for. Sawyer had come back to Herumor with the first really bad news and was now standing trembling before him.

Herumor did not turn away from the window and standing there dressed in his black robes with his silver eldritch hair hanging down over his shoulders he reminded Sawyer of some large carrion bird. _A vulture_, Sawyer decided.

Finally Herumor did turn to face him and Sawyer wanted to close his eyes and not look into the walking cadaver with burning coals for eyes, but he had no choice.

"Who are these Grigori Enterprises?" His tone was deceptively soft, but Sawyer could sense a world of malevolence in it. "And how is it that they were given the contract for the excavation of Moria that I _quite clearly_ indicated to the Swiss government was to be given to Angband Enterprises? Did you not make it clear to them perhaps?"

Sawyer shuddered and a look of satisfaction stole over Herumor's face when he spotted it. The orc drew closer to them both, sensing a possible disaster, for Sawyer at least.

"Grigori Enterprises are a Swiss company my Lord." Sawyer whispered. "And they are very powerful. Nobody really knows the extent of their interests but they are a very old organisation and are influential with governments."

"Are?" Herumor put a wealth of threat into that one word.

"W...were...my Lord." Sawyer stuttered. "And although your influence is growing daily, they _still _have the ear of important, influential people and especially the ear of the Swiss government who were giving out the contract for the excavation."

Herumor stared long and deeply into Sawyer's eyes, but he saw nothing other than the usual fear and pathetic desire to appease and obey. Herumor was definitely no fool, he knew that sometimes you catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar. This was not ancient Middle-earth any more, one could simply not just pile one's Legions of Terror across country boundaries as Melkor and Sauron had done in the old days and not expect some sort of massive resistance. And the armies of Men were very well equipped and technologically advanced.

He pondered the question of what to do for a few minutes, while Sawyer shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and the orc shuffled ever closer sniffling out a potential pleasant meal of man-flesh. Finally he turned back to the window and folded his hands behind his back once more.

"Find out who these Grigori Enterprises people are. I want to know _where_ they come from, _how_ they built up their business and _who_ their people are. Then I want you to go and make arrangements to meet with their head man....this Joaquim de Salvo whoever he is. Get them on to our side Sawyer or you, or rather your family _and_ you, will face the consequences. I need...no _must have._..control of Moria."

"Yes my Lord." The relief in the air around Sawyer was palpable. He had expected almost instant execution or worse, but the mild reaction of Herumor had taken him completely by surprise. "I will put a report together immediately."

He turned smartly and left the room with alacrity, but the orc remained behind at a sharp gesture to him from Herumor. He sidled up to the Master.

"You do not wish me to follow him Master?"

Herumor shook his head. "No Grotskab, there are others who will now take up that role, I have another, much more important task for you, one that will take you into the depths of Moria itself. They are sending out expeditions to go further into the mines, but unlike them, _I_ have a map of the original Moria. I wish you to go alone to Moria, gain entrance and seek out any of your kind that might still live within the depths, but be careful, do not go too far down, there are things down there that have lain dormant for many thousands of years, dangerous things. They are not to be awoken...not yet. Do not get caught by their guards, avoid them and the three Elves that are there at all costs. Note their presence if they make it known, but do nothing. Come back and report to me and me alone. Come."

He went to the long dining table at one end of the room and the orc shuffled behind him. Herumor unrolled one of the scrolls and bid the creature come and look.

"This Grotskab, is what I wish you to do..."

ooOoo


	36. The Black Chasm

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to my reviewers, I have tried to answer you all personally. My take on the Powers that Be and humour are that I think that they would_ have_ to have some sort of sense of humour after looking after humankind since we crawled out of the slime, otherwise I think they would have given up the ghost long ago! This is a modern Age of Men that they are trying to deal with and modern man these days has a way of lightening the load by inappropriate humour. I decided that much the same sort of coping mechanism would have existed in the first few ages on Middle-earth, because that's how people do cope with the terrible things in life...with humour. It's only when humour deserts us that we are in real trouble and need to seek help to balance us back out.

I think the Valar and even Eru would be very well aware of this and would cut their coat according to the cloth given to them in their dealings with the race of Men. A world without humour is a terrible place indeed. Which is why many religions don't have the following they perhaps ought to have. There should also be a joyous aspect to any belief system a_s well as t_he austere and serious parts. They should never be mutually exclusive.

My last reviewer pointed out very rightly, that my dramatis personae is getting rather large. Yes it is, so at the end of this chapter I have listed the cast of characters in order of importance, although this could change depending on where my demented muse decides to take the story line.

"I will not turn into a snake. It never helps.

One of my advisors will be an average five-year-old child. Any flaws in my plan that he is able to spot will be corrected before implementation.

If I absolutely must ride into battle, I will certainly not ride at the forefront of my Legions of Terror, nor will I seek out my opposite number among his army.

I will be neither chivalrous nor sporting. If I have an unstoppable superweapon, I will use it as early and as often as possible instead of keeping it in reserve.

Once my power is secure, I will destroy all those pesky time-travel devices.

I will spare someone who saved my life sometime in the past. This is only reasonable as it encourages others to do so. However, the offer is good one time only. If they want me to spare them again, they'd better save my life again.

All midwives will be banned from the realm. All babies will be delivered at state-approved hospitals. Orphans will be placed in foster-homes, not abandoned in the woods to be raised by creatures of the wild.

If I decide to test a lieutenant's loyalty and see if he/she should be made a trusted lieutenant, I will have a crack squad of marksmen standing by in case the answer is no.

When I create a multimedia presentation of my plan designed so that my five-year-old advisor can easily understand the details, I will not label the disk "Project Overlord" and leave it lying on top of my desk.

I will instruct my Legions of Terror to attack the hero en masse, instead of standing around waiting while members break off and attack one or two at a time.

If the hero runs up to my roof, I will not run up after him and struggle with him in an attempt to push him over the edge. I will also not engage him at the edge of a cliff. (In the middle of a rope-bridge over a river of molten lava is not even worth considering.) "

___**- **__** Excerpts from the **____**Evil Overlord List, Copyright 1996-1997 by Peter Anspach **_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 36 – The Black Chasm**

**The Inner Sanctum of the Elder King, Oiolosse, Valinor**

"It is a monumental task that has been set before your Herald." Raguel stood at Manwe's window, the window from which he looked out over Valinor and Arda.

Manwe pursed his lips slightly. Was the Seraphim criticising his choice or suggesting that Eönwë perhaps wasn't up to the job? He felt himself stiffen, he truly wasn't sure about having Raguel here on Valinor. This Ainur was powerful and Manwe had forgotten just how truly powerful he was. The Valar had been so autonomous in their stewardship of the Undying lands for so long now that nearly all of them and the Maiar had forgotten that they were actually part of a greater group. Ainur had fallen from Eru's grace and the Timeless Halls and risen again and here in Valinor they had known nothing about it so absorbed were they.

Raguel had the direct ear of Eru and had been sent here by him. Manwe could only suppose that the stewardship of the Valar had been found wanting and this was what made him nervous about the Seraphim's presence. And the other Valar had all left for their respective domains leaving him and Varda to face Raguel alone. Even Ulmo had sank into the depths of the ocean rather than face Eru's prestigious messenger. He momentarily cursed the fact that once they had considered that every member of the Eldar who could sail West had sailed, they had turned their thoughts away from Arda and taken their eye off the ball.

With no sooner the thought than the word, his beautiful lady materialised in the Inner Sanctum where Manwe and Raguel stood. And bless her, without a hint from anyone she gracefully glided over to Raguel, put her arms around him and enfolded him in a warm welcoming embrace. Manwe held his breath as Raguel stood for a moment, a startled look pasted all over those beautiful but ophidian features and then to Manwe's relief he smiled and embraced her in return.

"It is so lovely to see you again Raguel. How long has it been?" She smiled brightly at him and kissed his cheek. Manwe could see the brief look of admiration pass over the Seraphim's narrow features and the spark of warmth in those cool blue eyes.

Raguel held her at arm's length as if to examine her form, then he gracefully took her hand and kissed the palm. "Far too long my Lady, your beauty has been _far_ too long absent from the Halls. I had forgotten how breathtaking you were in an incarnate form."

Manwe watched in fascination as the colour flooded his beloved's pale cheeks, he had also forgotten just how beautiful his wife was until he saw her through another's eyes.

Varda laughed and the silver notes of her laughter echoed around the chamber. "Oh you were _always _a silver-tongued devil Raguel, now are you_ going_ to tell us what you are doing here or just keep us in suspense? You do realise that we are all terrified that Atto has sent you down here because he believes we are incapable of sorting the affairs of Arda ourselves?"

Raguel's laughter joined hers and Manwe held his breath as he waited for the Ainur to answer. Trust his darling wife to come straight to the point.

"Quite the contrary Varda. I am here at Father's request of course, but he has sent me to help you, not take over. I have quite enough to do trying to keep an eye on the Host. However, there is the matter of the earthbound Ainur that your Maiar Eönwë and Radagast have come across. Of course the twain was never meant to meet, but circumstances have dictated otherwise. Father has decided that the Ainur, those called the Grigori by mortal man are to be brought back into the fold. This will be done in preparation for the End Time."

Varda faltered slightly and a spasm of fear engulfed her. "The End Time is nigh?"

Raguel shook his head and smiled reassuringly at her. "No, Father assures me it is not, but this creature...Herumor...seeks to advance the lead-up to the End Time and Father is angry that anyone should try to dictate when the end of a world should be. This is in no other's purview but his."

A Maiar materialised with a tray of fruit, some glasses and a carafe of the delicious sparkling pale wine of the Teleri. Manwe took the opportunity of stepping forward.

"Please do be seated Raguel. You _must_ taste the wine that the children from the coastal region, those called the Teleri, make, it is quite delicious."

A white marble seat complete with plush red cushions materialised behind Raguel who sat down and accepted the glass of wine. He sipped it and gave an appreciative sigh.

"It has been a while since I imbibed." He admitted. "But this is lovely, very reminiscent of the champagne made by mortal man. I had cause to travel to earth to bring back a recalcitrant Seraphim who stepped over his given boundaries and had to eat and drink to maintain my incarnate form. Although _this_ has a sweetness that the other lacked." He smiled over at Manwe and Varda. "Now, tell me of Eönwë, we hear good things about the child in the Halls. Father has great faith in him."

Manwe felt the constriction in his chest loosen and for a moment felt quite dizzy. He took a glass from Ilmare, Varda's handmaiden, the Maia who was serving them, but due to the nervous energy flowing through him he took a gulp rather than a sip which caused a coughing fit that rather spoiled the self-assured nonchalance he had been aiming for. If Raguel noticed he was far too polite and tactful to say anything, instead he engaged Varda in small talk about the rest of the Valar and current events on Valinor while Manwe composed himself again.

Once he had control of himself Manwe felt bolder. "How long do you think you will be here?"

Varda rolled her eyes at him and spoke directly to him, mind to mind. _How long will he BE here? Dear heaven Manwe, if that isn't a pointed question, nothing is... _

Raguel may have been a messenger direct from Eru, but he was not bereft of a sense of humour and he bit back the laughter that rose up in him. Instead he said mildly. "The mortals have a saying back on earth Manwe "Here's your hat, what's your hurry?". I've only just arrived and you want to see the back of me already?"

Manwe looked horrified and frantically tried to backpedal. "No...no...not at all. _Always_ delighted to have you here dear boy, stay as long as you like."

He immediately felt like banging his head off the nearest column, how stupid had he just sounded? Dear boy? Had he _really_ just called a most senior member of the hierarchy, an Archangel who served Eru directly a 'dear boy'? Where was that hole in the ground that should appear to swallow you in embarrassing moments like these when you really needed it? He was aware of his wife's calm, patient exterior, always a bad sign. As was the slight tapping of her slender, silk-slippered foot. He was in for a few sharp words from her before the day was through that was for sure.

Raguel sighed and got up from his chair, he led Manwe to another chair and pointed to it. "Manwe, please sit down and relax. I am _not _here to take charge or criticise your decisions or choices. I am not here to punish any of you either, in fact I am looking forward to a brief holiday from that particular task. I get rather tired of always being the bad guy. People see me and start heading in the opposite direction even if all I want to do is say hello. I want to see this beautiful realm of yours and I want to meet the Elves and at the same time I am going liaise between your people on Arda and the Grigori. I understand three of the Eldar and Radagast are already in Moria?"

Manwe sank into the chair and stared up at him. "You want to meet the Elves?"

Raguel nodded. "I understand that they are one of the most beautiful of Father's creations. We hear much about them in the Halls. _Our _only contact with Father's creations is with mortal man and fascinating though they are, they can be extremely difficult to deal with."

"Hah! You obviously never met Feanor." Manwe said with a grin. "Now _there _was a difficult individual and he was the first of the Eldar to be born here."

"And yet, developments on Middle-earth would not have gone the way they have if he had not rebelled against you." Raguel said softly. "Melkor would have held sway over all and mortal man would not have developed the way they have without the interference of the Eldar, if indeed they would have been allowed to develop at all."

Manwe stared down into the pale liquid in his glass. "They would have been enslaved and altered by his magicks. My brother ever raged at the fact that he could not create life. He seemed to be unable to understand that this was Eru's sole task, not his. And yet now mortal man again stands on the brink of disaster, so perhaps their development without structure or guidance by a higher power has not been such a good thing."

"It is true that they have often been the architects of their own disasters and they seem far too willing to listen to the sweet blandishments of creatures who wear the face of friendship to mask an evil intent, but then the Eldar were not exactly exempt from making terrible decisions either despite their considerable advantages over mortal man. Mortal man, when left to his own devices and armed with the basics for survival has proven to be most innovative. They have made great advances. Unfortunately those advances have been to the detriment of their spiritual development and Father has decided that it is time to address this...er...lapse and he wants it done _before_ the End Time." Raguel sat down again and crossed one shapely leg over the other. "This is why the child Eönwë was chosen. He has all of the hallmarks of a senior Ainur and Father is well pleased in him. He inspires loyalty in all who follow him, a natural leader indeed."

Manwe shifted uncomfortably, this sounded more and more as though Eönwë was being slotted into some role among the other Ainur and whilst he would never stand in the child's way, he didn't want to lose his beloved Herald. He cleared his throat.

"Well of course there is the matter of his human wife and their child."

Raguel laughed softly. "They do not prevent him from being good at what he does, in fact they have been an asset rather than a liability to him. It is through them that he will be able to better relate to mortal man. The woman Kim, grounds him. Her loyalty and love are necessary to his well-being. Do you really believe Father would have allowed their union if he had not thought her necessary for Eönwë's future? And the child stands with a foot in both worlds, she has a great future in the greater scheme of things, not unlike the Grigori Seth who even now guides your three Elves in Moria. Eönwë is exactly where Father wishes him to be and he is the key to the survival of mortal man whether they like it or not."

Manwe could have fainted with sheer relief. For a horrible moment he thought that Eönwë would be whisked away back to the Halls to serve in the Armies of the Ainur while his wife and child struggled for survival on an earth slowly turning to darkness. He could not have stood by and watched and that would have meant going against Father and everything he held dear.

"So." Raguel shot a suddenly disarmingly boyish grin at Manwe and Varda. "Now we have established that I am _not_ here to take over your job and your Herald is _not _going to be press-ganged into the Heavenly Armies, can I meet some Elves now please?"

ooOoo

**The residence of Brigadier Gary Matthews and his wife, Hampshire, England**

"He damaged them terribly you know."

The remarkably calm, unconcerned tone in Nerdanel's voice made Kim look up sharply. The red-haired wife of Feanor was staring out at the garden where Maedhros, Maglor and Celebrimbor, newly arrived in Middle-earth, were gathering up the now rapidly falling leaves on Erestor's strictest and sternest instructions, rather hindered by Allie and Bob who insisted on rushing into the middle of the pile and flinging them up in a russet shower. Rasputin the cat sat to one side feigning a deep disinterest in the proceedings, but obviously with his eye on the main chance. Nerdanel laughed softly as she saw the cat's hindquarters wriggle slightly as he prepared to pounce on one errant leaf that escaped the lawn rake that Maedhros was wielding with enthusiasm.

She laughed out loud when Maglor grabbed Allie and flung her high into the air and then caught the shrieking, laughing child firmly in his arms as she plummeted down. Bob barked and Celebrimbor leaned on the spade he was currently poking the garden fire with and laughed until the tears ran down his face. In direct contrast to her laughter, the sight of her sons and grandson, now healing also brought sharp stinging tears to Nerdanel's eyes.

"I wish he would have seen them like this, or been easier with them as children, but perhaps it is best he did not survive. They never seemed to be children to him, just extensions of his own pride and arrogance."

Kim was reluctant to interrupt her remembrances, but it was so rare that this sad lady spoke her true mind and she so rarely spoke of her husband that she wanted to encourage it.

"Not even as babies Lady Nerdanel?" She asked softly.

Nerdanel turned from the window and sat down on the long low couch opposite Kim's chair. "The first baby, Maedhros, he had the best of his father I think. Of course Feanor was a new father then, it was all strange and fresh to him, but now...now I wonder if even then he viewed the child as some raw product to be forged in his fires in his own image."

Her tone was sad and Kim rose from her own chair, sat down beside the Elf-lady and placed her hand over Nerdanel's. She couldn't imagine Eönwë being that way with Allie. He adored his daughter and playing with her in her childish games was one of the things that helped him relax and diverted him from his onerous burden. Allie was a little individual, not just a piece of her father and Eönwë loved the human part of his daughter, the part she got from her mother, as much as he loved her mother.

"But the others?" She persisted, trying to draw the sad mother of Maedhros and Maglor out a little.

Nerdanel sighed. "The others were my province when they were babies, although he took great pleasure in the fathering of them. I told myself it was love, but now I wonder. He was an incandescent flame that burned almost as bright as Anor does now and I was drawn to him. I still do not know what he saw in me; he was greatly sought after by the most beautiful women in Valinor and compared to them I was a dull, country girl always bent at her craft. Sometimes I think that Galadriel would have been a_ much _better match for him, but she had the great good sense to see him for what he was and in any case they were far too closely related to each other. He could never understand that the reason she dismissed him was because she knew full well what he was. I was foolish and all I saw was the sun shining brightly. He did not so much make love to me, as drag me into his own heat and I burned...oh, _how _I burned. My children were conceived in the fire of his arrogance and self-interest and once they were old enough they revolved like satellites around his sun."

"It doesn't sound like much of an equal partnership or much of a marriage." Kim remarked, she looked out of the window in time to see Celebrimbor swinging the little girl around him in the airplane movement she loved so much and she laughed, causing Nerdanel to look as well. She _also_ laughed to see Maedhros sitting astride his brother, trying to push leaves under his jacket while Maglor thrashed about and giggled like a lunatic.

"I don't suppose that it was _ever_ equal. One was never equal with the great Feanor, the Spirit of Fre." There was a sudden tinge of bitterness in Nerdanel's tone. "It was just never done."

Kim smiled to herself. "When did you fall out of love with him?"

"Truthfully? I do not know, Around the time I realised that he did not so much love me as wanted to consume me completely, body and soul. Around the time he left I suppose. I felt no desire to follow him and I can still see the disappointment and betrayal in his eyes. There always _was _a stubborn part of me that would not let him in, a small part that was the selfish part of me and that was the part that stopped me from following his bright star to destruction. It must have both frustrated and fascinated him that he could never gain entry to all of me and it was that which kept him by my side in the beginning I suppose. The desire to know and possess all, as he possessed his sons..._our_ sons." She smiled at Kim. "As you can see I have had a great many ages to think about this."

"I can see why you say he damaged them. He didn't see them as people in their own right, with their own dreams and needs." Kim said soberly. "He pulled them in completely until they were just carbon copies of him. If you had let him in he would have destroyed you as well."

Nerdanel paused in her remembrances of a time long since past. "But now at least two of my children are healing." She said softly, but the tears sprang up again and this time they fell down her cheeks unheeded. "But my other babies, my darlings, they will _never._.. I cannot even hold them or comfort them."

She choked on her tears, so Kim put her arm around Nerdanel's shoulders and pulled her close and Nerdanel wept into the comfort of a sympathetic shoulder.

"Nerdanel, they are with people who will look after them. You must believe that the Valar and the Maiar who serve them will not be unkind, they will comfort them and help them heal as best they can. Before I had Allie I would have told you that at least you have two children left and your grandson, but now I know that it doesn't make up for the children you lost. All I can do is tell you to hold onto hope that one day you will be reunited with _all_ of your children...but... hopefully _not _your husband."

Nerdanel let out a watery giggle. "He was not _so_ bad." She protested weakly and then encountered Kim's look of patent disbelief. "All right...he was...and it has taken me up until now to realise just how bad. I blame his mother, what on earth was she thinking leaving a small child like that to be brought up by strangers? Even if he _did_ have a doting father who also shouldered the responsibilities of being a king to his people."

"Eönwë says that she gave all of her strength in the birth of Feanor and simply did not have the strength to carry on." Kim countered with a half-hearted support of the absent Miriel.

Nerdanel looked at Kim and then they both nodded in agreement.

"You're right." Kim said. "That's a huge crock of shit. When you're a mother you just _don't_ give in, no matter how bloody tired you are. Your baby needs a mother. Maybe it's because I'm not an Elf, but you just grit your teeth and get on with it. But Finwe always sounds like a bit of a wimp to me anyway."

"He could be very strong." Nerdanel agreed. "But he was weak where Miriel and his son were concerned. And I think he did not know how to cope with her withdrawal. He was torn between her and his son. He did his best, but the result was that Feanor was given all the wrong things as a child..."

"And he turned into a selfish asshole..." Kim continued relentlessly as Nerdanel gave her rather an aghast look. "Sorry, but I have no sympathy for the guy at all. He had a lovely wife and beautiful children, a talent many would give their eye teeth for, he created the most beautiful objects ever created and he _still _wasn't satisfied. What the hell more did he want? No sorry, you are all better off without him. Lord Namo needs to lock him up and throw away the bloody key."

It struck Nerdanel that although Kim's statement was blunt and damning in a very modern way, it was probably the truth. Feanor had never been satisfied, always restless, always searching for more, even when he had it all.

"Perhaps you are right...no...you _are _right. Without him I have been able to rebuild myself somewhat and now Lord Eönwë and the Valar have given me something back, after all those empty years." She stood up and took up the large thick cardigan Kim had loaned her. "And I am sitting in here mourning for someone I never really had when I could be out there making up for lost time with my sons and my grandson. My father told me to make the most of this, in fact, much to my surprise, it was at _his_ urging that I agreed to come here and I am wasting precious time."

She smiled at Kim and opened the French doors into the garden. " It is long past time that I thrust off sad thoughts and faced my future and my healing with a lightness of heart. Shall we join the fray?"

By this time the gathering of leaves to be put on the fire had turned into a pitched battle because Chief and Hal had just arrived back and had joined in. Bob ran around barking hysterically, Allie was sitting on Maglor's shoulders and pelting handfuls of leaves at Maedhros who was dramatically pretending to die every now and then and Rasputin was busy worrying the leaves as they tried to make their escape and cover the garden again.

Kim grinned at her. "I thought you'd _never_ ask."

Erestor left the living room where he was writing in his journal to see what all the commotion was about and shook his head in despair when he saw the leaves and garden rubbish strewn all over the place. He gracefully ducked and avoided a pile of wet leaves thrown at him by Celebrimbor, then he smiled and went back inside. He may have had a sharp and sometimes caustic exterior, but inside he was as soft as marshmallow and it was rather nice to see the childlike sides of Feanor's two eldest sons. It had been a long time coming and perhaps young Celebrimbor would find some peace inside himself and come to terms with his life and the untimely, violent manner of his death.

_Sometimes the Valar DO get it right_. He mused to himself before turning back to his journal. He needed to complete this entry _before _Maksim_,_Lord Eönwë and Ereinion came back from their meeting with the General. There was but a short time before Celebrimbor was due to head over to Elrond and the others in Moria. Hal was going to accompany him and would probably also stay there and offer his services.

Yes, there was much to do. Erestor smiled in satisfaction. It was better to be busy helping, although he did actually miss that long, streak of blond aggravation, Glorfindel always being underfoot. (1) He really hoped that they were all being careful there in the depths of that awful place.

ooOoo

**The dark recesses of the First Hall of Moria**

The glow cast by the bobbing torchlight from the helmets gave an even more eerie look to a place that was wreathed in mystery and shadow. The movement of the light made it seem to the patrol that there were things moving deep within them and more than one of the human members started and jumped around, weapon raised against an enemy that was not there. This was not the case for Thranduil and the others and they noticed that Seth's eyesight was just as sharp, if not a little more sharp than their long Elven sight. At any rate, the Elves would have been able to sense the close proximity of others than themselves. The lights of the Admin area were now quite distant and more than one comment about how long the hall seemed to be was elicited from members of the team.

The deep arched recesses on both sides of the hall proved to be nothing more than arched columns in the middle, with a wall placed every so often which gave an impression of little rooms, but once they explored through one of the recesses they found the wall on the other side with another walkway adjacent to the larger main walk through. They decided that it was probably the same design on the other side.

There was no specific purpose that could be attached to the actual Hall, but Seth came to the conclusion that it was perhaps a gathering area before a main exit. One thing that did become very clear as they picked their way through was that there seemed to be very little damage and little or no rubble the further they went in. The arches were carved beautifully, but to the disappointment of Dr bob Dearham, the only scientist on the team and the person mapping the area, there was nothing else and certainly no other carvings which may have indicated who lived there.

They moved on slowly, Thranduil and Seth in front with Elrond and Glorfindel bringing up the rear of their little party. Seth's sharp eyesight was able to make out the roof above them and he was about to call a halt to the patrol with the idea of beginning again at first light, when Thranduil nudged his arm. Seth turned to him with a look of query, but all Thranduil did was turn on the more powerful torch he carried at his waist. Seth did the same as did Carver Grissom and they all, even the Elves, gasped in utter awe at the spectacle before them.

There in the combined light of many torches, were a set of wide steps running the entire width of the hall. Down at the bottom there was the most exquisite large empty area except for a number of what must have been stone benches at one time. The floor was flagged with large stones, the colours of which danced and sparkled in the torchlight. Reds and yellows vied with greens and there seemed to be filament- thin veins of silver running through the stone itself. A delicate silver sheen clung to the stones and reflected light as the patrol shone their torches around the area. The steps had the same silvery look to them. One of the men bent down and brushed his finger against the sheen and was astonished when his finger sparkled as he looked at it.

"What the fuck_ is_ this stuff? It looks like silver, the whole bloody place is shot through with silver."

The Elves glanced uneasily at each other, some mortals were obsessive and greedy about precious metals, they were reluctant to say that it was a precious metal now complete unknown to the race of Men, but which had been mined by the Dwarves in this place and valued greatly by the Eldar.

"It is not silver as you know it." Seth's calm tones cut in. "It is actually called Truesilver, a metal which has been long forgotten."

The man goggled at him. "Is it worth anything?"

"I doubt it very much." Seth said indifferently. "The market worth of silver these days is very low. Now if it had been plutonium, perhaps it would be more of a find. As it is, people rarely use or wear silver these days. It would have had more value decades ago."

"Oh." The disappointment in the man's voice was clear as he brushed his finger along his combat trousers leaving a long shiny line. "So...is this a mine maybe?"

Carver laughed. "Some bloody mine. It's more like a mausoleum than a mine...a bloody great big mausoleum. I keep expecting to come across a few tombs here and there."

"He may get his wish." Elrond said in a voice too low for mortals to hear. "I'm surprised we have not come across any Dwarf or goblin skeletons yet and if this is the back end of Moria then the Chamber of Mazarbul where Balin's tomb lies cannot be too far away."

Seth looked up sharply and Glorfindel dug Elrond in his ribs. They had forgotten that the Grigori's hearing and eyesight were as good, if not better, as theirs. A slight almost imperceptible shake of Seth's head silenced further comments. The Elves weren't sure just how much Seth knew, but he obviously didn't want to give what he did know away and he didn't want to the Elves to either.

"Let's move on. I'd like to go just a bit further tonight, perhaps to the wall and then we can continue in the morning. I am sure everyone is hungry and we can crack on further once we are all rested a bit. It's been a long day for all." Seth's tone brooked no objections and the group moved cautiously over to the stairs where they all stood looking down..

Now they were closer and the light from the torches was stronger, they could plainly see signs of wear of the ages. Here and there the stone floor was distressingly broken causing both large and small potholes where the actual original rough stone floor of the cavern showed through. The area was actually about the size of four tennis courts and at the right and left sides there were huge stone archways leading to what looked like a sort of veranda which disappeared into the distance. In front of them there was an arched structure which resembled one side of an aqueduct, but was actually just an ornamental wall which may or may not have been just dividing the hall into two Beyond it there was darkness and above them, the roof soared much higher than it had in the hall, so high that it was impossible to tell how high it actually was.

"What the hell? This place is bloody _gigantic_, how the hell did primitive people carve this structure out like this?" Carver murmured to himself, but the hall caught even that whispered comment and returned so many echoes back to them that it was another sibilant language spoken by a number of people at the same time.

Seth didn't comment other than to put his finger against his lips. He walked down the steps carefully, followed by Thranduil and the others and they finally stood in the ante-room, staring about them in fascination.

"Well." Thranduil swung his torch left and right and then straight ahead. The arches in the wall seemed a little wider in the middle indicating that perhaps it had been some sort of entranceway. "We can go left, right or straight ahead I suppose."

He cast a look over at Glorfindel and Elrond only to be answered by a slight shake of head from both. Even Legolas's description once the War of the the Ring was over, of their flight from Moria after Mithrandir had fallen was not extensive enough to guess whether they had actually come this way, but Thranduil decided that if this was indeed leading to the Dimrill Gate, they must have done. They had all been far too distressed and scared to notice what other places they ran through, they were just intent on escape.

Seth had also noticed the wider archway and was moving towards it. A sudden trickling noise and the sounds of small stones skittering down onto the floor made them all jump, even the Elves, and if there had been an enemy there they would have found themselves staring down the muzzles of a number of lethal weapons, but there was nothing and nobody there.

"I guess this stuff is so old it must break away and fall all the time. But the place doesn't seem damp or cold. In fact if anything it's very warm down here." Carver said quietly, as much to comfort himself as anyone else. He swallowed past a dry throat with difficulty and took a swig from the water bottle on his belt ease the dryness.

Glorfindel nodded. "Indeed. This is a very ancient place and I believe that we may be the first living beings to set foot here in a very long time, we cannot help but disturb things a little." He did not comment on the warmth because he had a fair idea where it was coming from.

By this time they had reached the larger archway and Seth shone his torch in front of him. The wall did indeed mark a boundary. It marked the boundary between terra firma and a large, very deep chasm about fifty feet acros, the edge of which started only a couple of feet from the other side of the arched wall. Directly in front of him there seemed to be a narrow bridge which led to the other side of the deep chasm from which an orange glow, as if from a molten core, sprang. What was on the other side was wreathed in a darkness so complete as to appear almost impervious despite the orange glow which got stronger and hotter the closer they got.

The man who had commented on the silver leaned over the edge, ostensibly to see how far down the bottom was. Some of the stone crumbled under his feet and he found himself pinwheeling his arms on the edge of certain fiery doom to try and keep his balance. Elrond was closest to him and reached out with one strong hand to grab the back of the man's jacket. Glorfindel also grabbed it and together they pulled him back from the edge and certain death.

"Jesus fucking H Christ." He swore, the sweat from not just the heat beading his brow. "Thanks. I thought I was a goner there."

Seth sighed in exasperation. "Perhaps _that_ will teach you to be cautious in future. Stay here, _all_ of you. I will go and see if we can get across."

He walked cautiously onto the very beginning of the thin stone bridge and everyone else stood back and waited. Two foot, three and then another few steps, every so often Seth tested the solidity of the bridge by stabbing the area in front of him with a small shovel from his pack. He was a quarter of the way over when he stopped dead. The bridge curved upwards slightly in the middle so it was difficult for those standing at the edge to see what had brought him to a halt. He turned and headed back to them.

"Can we get over?" Carver asked impatiently.

Seth shook his head. "No, the bridge is broken in the middle, there is a small piece of it left on the other side but there is a gap of about ten foot and nothing below it but the depths. We are going to have to work our way around, either right or left. But I think we will do this tomorrow." He turned away from the bridge and started back to the steps and the First Hall. "Let's head back."

Everyone followed him, but the three Elves hung back for a moment. All three of them stared at the broken bridge.

Elrond could not help himself this time. "The bridge at Khazad-dum." He whispered. "The place where Mithrandir fell. Ai...it is where he fell with the Balrog so long ago."

Thranduil caught at his arm. "Let's join the others. We don't know what might still be here even after all these years and there is safety in numbers."

"Very true." Glorfindel said calmly. "And I really don't fancy fighting another Balrog. Once in a lifetime is more than enough."

As they joined the others they did not see a shadow detach itself on the other side of the chasm. Had they been actually looking instead of walking away they would have noticed it for sure especially with their long sight. The shadow scurried away into the darkness making just a soft noise as its bare feet slapped the stone floor.

Glorfindel's head turned sharply at the noise. "What was that?" He whispered to the other two. The other men were now a little way in front of them and were too busy looking left and right and being alert to hear anything.

"I rather think gentlemen, that whatever is here, now knows we are here." Seth appeared in front of them. He had come back to see where they were. "When dinner is over, we will discuss the situation. Until then I must ask for your silence in front of the others."

The Elves inclined their heads in assent and Seth nodded at them with a slight smile.

"Until later then."

ooOoo

(1) Erestor's description of Glorfindel as a long, blond streak of aggravation comes from the delightful stories and characterisations of **Evendim** who also publishes on .

ooOoo

**Dramatis Personae**

**Goodies in order of importance**

**Eönwë **, Herald of Manwe, Maia, aka Gary Matthews, Brigadier, Royal Regiment of Fusiliers, British Army. Main role

**Kim,** Eönwë's wife, Main role

**Almare or Allie**, their half Maia daughter

**Erestor,** former Seneschal to Master Elrond and Lady Celebrian of Imladris, now part housekeeper/cook/scout/warrior/nursemaid and friend to Kim, Main role

**Jim Moore**, Police Constable, descendant of Kings. He has yet to prove his mettle, but because he is the descendant of Aragorn and Arwen, he will ultimately be the focus for the mortal side. Main role

**Thranduil, **former Elvenking, never left ME and also survived down through the ages. Self-assured, competent, efficient and urbane. Knows exactly where he needs to be but is a little hazy on where he wants to be. Right now he has an important role in Moria _and_ in the main storyline.

**Elrond, **former Master of Imladris, now back in modern ME with his wife to seek out descendants. Little do either of them realise that the people they are seeking have actually been there all the time. Elrond has yet to meet either Jim or Hal, but Celebrian will be meeting both shortly. He has a major role in Moria and the main storyline

**Glorfindel, **Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, Balrog Slayer, Reborn warrior. He is wherever Elrond is to be found and has a main role in the story.

**Celebrimbor,** grandson of Feanor, reborn and sent back to ME to assist Eönwë. Yet to make an actual appearance, but he will join the Moria team where he has a main role

**Ereinion Gil-galad,** Former King of the Noldor in Exile. Killed on field of battle by Sauron, recently reborn and sent back to ME, not as you would think, to assist his Herald and friend, but to be the Second in Command and Herald to Eönwë . Yet to make an appearance. Potentially major role.

**Seth Falconer, **Grigori, Watcher, part of the vanguard of Ainur sent down to Arda after the Ice Age. He and his colleagues volunteered to stay as earthbound Ainur after the main party went back to the Timeless Halls. Seth is second tier of the Ainur, a Kerubim warrior. He and the others formed a powerful company called Grigori Enterprises who have dealings in the modern business world. They have existed a long time on earth and gathered much wealth and power. Their primary raison d'etre is to observe and record the history of Man since the Ice Age. They do not usually interfere directly in Man's affairs. Seth is currently part of the Moria excavation team and will have a major role in Moria along with Thranduil, Elrond and Glorfindel.

**Celebrian,** former Lady of Imladris, back for same reasons as her husband. She plays an important role, even though her husband wants to protect her all the time, but may end up being in a relatively supporting role so he doesn't have a hissy fit every time she does something potentially dangerous.

**Maedhros,** Fea was taken into the Halls of Waiting and then reborn much to his and everyone else's surprise, however he was then immediately sent back to ME to assist Eönwë as part of the reparation for his sins. Supporting role with extra benefits

**Finrod, **Reborn and very bored Eldar Prince, brother to Galadriel, husband to Amarie, formerly known as Finrod Felagund, King of Nargothrond. He is here to assist Eönwë by his choice and also because he needs closure over his untimely death. Killing a few werewolves will probably go a long way to helping his PTSD! Supporting role in the tale with extra benefits.

**Detective Chief Superintendent Alun Davies,** Police Officer, boss of Jim Moore, Finrod and Jan Hall generally in a supporting role with some extra benefits

**Detective Sergeant Jan Hal**l, colleague of Finrod, Jim and Alun Davies. Generally in a supporting role, with extra benefits

**Dr Xavier du Pree** aka Radagast the Brown, Maia who never left ME and survived the various Ice Ages. Like Thranduil he decided on the 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em' school of thinking. He will certainly play a large role in the Moria side of things, but likely a supporting role in the main storyline.

**Maglor,** is also still in ME for the same reason as his brother, supporting role, this may well change as the story develops

**Hal Kenwood**, retired US Ranger, close friend of both Chief Knowles (they served together operationally in the Special Forces), but also close friend of Dr Xavier du Pree (see entry below this one) and descendant of the Dunedain, most likely Halbarad. He will ultimately be where the ancient Halbarad was, beside his Lord and friend. Let's hope he doesn't suffer the same fate. Supporting role, this may well change as the story develops

**Nerdanel,** mother to Maedhros and Maglor, present on Middle-earth for the purposes of moral support to her sons, but also because my soft heart thought that she and her sons needed to be reunited after all those years apart. Supporting role

**Elladan, **son of Elrond and Celebrian. Back in ME because he always liked the Edain and also because he thinks his parents need someone to keep an eye on them. Supporting role in the tale

**Haldir,** former Marchwarden of Lothlorien, back in ME because Celebrian's _parents_ think Elrond, Celebrian and Elladan need someone to keep an eye on _them_. Supporting role in the tale.

**Chief Knowles,** Staff Assistant in the HQ where Eönwë works as Chief of Staff to the General Officer Commanding. Supporting role

**Maksim**, a rebel vampire, currently on the run from the baddies. Has aligned himself with the good side, so far has a supporting role, that might change.

**The General**, General Officer Commanding HQ 4 Division, Eönwë's immediate superior in the military and influential friend, supporting role.

**Jeff Harris, **resident werewolf, currently being poked and prodded to see what makes him tick, this character could turn either way, good or bad. Type of role in the story not yet properly determined. Has been mostly used for dramatic effect so far.

**Baddies in order of appearance:**

**Herumor,** resident Big Bad, budding Evil Overlord, Black Numenorean King, served under Sauron. For the purposes of this tale he is the Chief Baddie, but he is actually working for someone else. Obviously has a big role but not seen too often because I don't want to spoil the mystique surrounding the character.

**Grotskab**, an orc, servant to Herumor, supporting role, may be larger when he goes to Moria

**Sheldon Sawyer,** human male. Unwilling servant of Herumor, Official Mouthpiece of Herumor in public dealings with the race of Men. Supporting role

**Others who have appeared in the story but do not have a huge part in the story:**

**Draugluin,** Sire of the werewolves

**Thurungwethil,** Lady of the vampires

**Kiril,** head of Maksim's coven of vampires

and....

Assorted agents from the Intelligence services of the world, scientists and researchers, assorted vampires, werewolves and other Grigori, various assorted humans appearing as and when necessary, Eru, The Valar, Maiar and other Elves appearing as and when necessary along with other members of the Ainur.

ooOoo


	37. Meet the Relatives

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **The timeline of the glacial ages of earth is far too complicated to explain in a story. There were actually quite a few actual Ice Ages, but there was a very long one and this is the Ice Age described in the dialogue between Thranduil, Seth, Radagast and the others in this chapter. Obviously I have shortened the enormity of it to fit and I've tried not to bore anyone but it is quite long, but I could see no other way to explain this part. The explanation is necessary so that the Elves know why Seth and his colleagues are present on earth and it brings the tale up to the beginning of Biblical history as well as giving my explanation as to why nothing of Middle-earth as the Eldar knew it remained. Hopefully it also explains why the Valar were no longer involved in the affairs of Middle-earth.

"Think not that I am come to send peace on earth; I came not to send peace, but a sword "

___**- **____**Bible quotation**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 37 – Meet the Relatives**

**A trailer outside the Moria Excavations**

"So we just sit here and wait?" Glorfindel asked.

Radagast looked up and smiled at him. "Probably best to do that. These Ainur are not like the Maia you have been used to interacting with. No indeed, they are not a patient bunch at all, although Seth seems gentler than his brethren by far. I put that down to his youth"

The three Elves goggled at him. "Youth?" Thranduil's voice was filled with disbelief. "Exactly what age would you term 'young' for one of Eru's Host?"

"Well let me see. Contrary to what others on Valinor might imagine, Seth, Sariel and the others have existed before the Music, just like myself, the other Maia and the Valar. The Music, as you also know deals entirely with the nature of the beginning of the world. Seth is a second generation Ainur which would make him almost, but not quite as old as time. Once Eru made the music real, many of the most powerful and influential Ainur entered into Eä, but they entered on condition that the life of the Universe, which has a beginning, middle and end corresponding to the Great Music of the Ainu, will be binding on them, and will become their lives as well. The Valar entered into and became a part of the World at the very beginning of Time. But they were not the only Ainur within the music, there were others just as powerful who remained in the Timeless Halls to do Eru's bidding in other myriad tasks. Seth was one of those. So yes he _is_ old, but quite young compared to Sariel, Joaquim and the others here on earth."

Elrond chewed thoughtfully on the end of the pen he was writing in his journal with. "You said they are not like our Maia. In what way are they not like them?"

Radagast sighed. "They are more austere and yet conversely, also much more dangerous. Not to say that there is no joy in the Timeless Halls, but those who were sent back to earth to take over stewardship of a world stripped of everything by an encroaching ice and seemingly never ending winter, had the more difficult task since their remit was one of observation and guidance only. They only interfered when the word of Eru was directly contravened."

"But we're really nice guys when you get to know us." Seth's amused voice interrupted Radagast's long explanations.

He carefully shut the door of the trailer behind him and nodded his thanks to Glorfindel who had immediately jumped up and offered him one of the only two chairs in the trailer. Everyone else apart from Elrond sat on the bunks.

"Cliff notes version." He smiled at them and they noticed that he had deep dimples on both cheeks which made his face look endearingly boyish. He pointed to himself. "I am of the second rank of the Ainur, which you would call the Maiar, but we are known as the Order of Kerubim, we are angelic warriors, when we're not earthbound. I've been around since the year dot, just like your own Maiar. I am subordinate to the Order Seraphim, who are like your Valar. Our group stayed on earth by choice at Father's request when the others were recalled. We are earthbound, much in the way that the Valar and Maia are. We're the good guys, but sometimes we have to be the bad guys. We observe and only call upon the Holy Hayyoth (1) for cleansing when one of our own transgresses. Then Raguel sends down Kerubim from the Halls to cleanse the transgressions lest they affect the development of mankind. However, this action is not to be taken lightly and is only done in _extreme _cases involving mortal man."

He noticed with amusement that the Elves looked rather bewildered. Finally Elrond put his hand up hesitantly.

"So...you are the successors to the Valar?"

Seth nodded. "In essence yes. It was thought by Father that Lord Manwe and the rest of the Valar had earned their rest after their long toils against Melkor and his agents. The Eldar had, for the most part..." He winked at Thranduil here who raised his eyebrows and laughed. "... sailed back to the place where Father ultimately wished them to be. The new Age of Man had begun."

"And the Ice Age?" Glorfindel asked. "Was that caused by Eru and if so for what reason?"

Seth settled back in his seat and accepted a glass of wine from Radagast with a smile of thanks. "You must understand, that this is not the _only_ world in the cosmos. Father has created many such worlds in his task as Creator and many, although not all, have life of some kind. Once created, those worlds are subject to the same laws as any other, things are constantly changing out there in the universe. Stars die, stars are born, worlds are born, all at Father's behest. He creates and then moves on, a dynamic creative force, such is the way of things. Each world that is born is subject to changes as the eons roll on, changes in position and changes in climate. They are also subject to other smaller objects in the universe coming within the sphere of their atmosphere which collide with them. It was such a collision that instigated a change of climate in Middle-earth; a natural change to some extent. If you have had access to the records of mankind towards the end of the Age of Middle-earth, you may have seen their wise men and star-gazers record perhaps a bright light in the sky. That may have been some of this matter that scientists now call asteroids colliding with Middle-earth. Indeed at least two such walk among you and are with us now in this trailer."

"The devastation was great." Thranduil said softly. "We saw the lights in the sky. At the time those of us who were left scoured the known world as far as we could to see who, if any, of the Eldar were left. The furthest patrols came across Secondborn fleeing the devastation. They told us that thousands had died instantly and that there was a large crater where many towns and villages had been before, however we saw no Eldar come with them. It was only later, when my own folk decided that it was time to leave that we saw other Elves."

Elrond stared at his friend aghast. "You said nothing of this to us Thranduil."

He shrugged. "What was there to say? I know not _how_ many Elves died in that disaster, but we knew something was terribly wrong because the trees and animals told us of it. And then the weather began to change. The summers grew shorter and shorter, Anor no longer rode high in the sky for hours during the day and clouds often covered her face. It grew colder and darker until the people outside my stronghold could no longer withstand living outside. My stronghold was delved deeply by us with the help of he Naugrim and protected so we stated to gather stores and supplies. We dried venison and other meats, also fruit and vegetables. The vegetation began to die outside and the trees could not endure the extreme cold, they became dark and brittle and eventually died off. Some of my people decided to travel to the Grey Havens while they still could and it was not long after that time that a large number of Avari suddenly appeared at the gates asking for shelter. They had travelled ahead of the long winter and they brought more tales of devastation with them. The Secondborn were dying off from the extreme cold, they said. They had passed through village after village, town after town, all empty. The animals had all but disappeared, only those that could withstand much lower temperatures remained. What the cold did not kill, the wolves finished off." He broke off and cleared his throat; tears sparkled in his eyes. Elrond put a comforting hand on his friend's hand and all of them blinked their tears away.

"Do not continue if it gives you pain child." Seth said softly, but Thranduil shook his head.

"No, I will finish what I started." He said bleakly. "I offered what shelter I could to the Avari who were grateful and they joined with me and my remaining people to see the long winter out. Others gradually appeared at the gates, Celeborn, his grandsons and Haldir came with the remaining Elves of Imladris. Celeborn told me that Glorfindel had taken a group to the Havens and then been unable to return. He was forced to take the ship with them, but by then Glorfindel had already received word from other Elves seeking to sail that Celeborn and the twins were safe with me. Celeborn had also had word of Maglor roaming the shores not far from Belfalas so I decided that we would try to find him and offer shelter in Eryn Lasgalen. I left Celeborn in charge of my stronghold and a few of us, including the twins and Haldir travelled to the south towards Gondor. Mainly because the twins wished to check on Elessar and Arwen's line."

Elrond's interest sparked up a little there. "Did the White City still stand?"

Thranduil nodded. "It still stood. Minas Tirith was built strongly out of a mountain, a city to last the ages and it took many centuries to finally crumble under the impact of the ice but their great gates, those recommissioned after the War of the Ring by Elessar were shut fast against us and when we tried to raise the guard, they showed great hostility. Elladan and Elrohir identified themselves as the brothers of Queen Evenstar, but not even that softened their attitude to us, much to the twin's great distress. We stayed there outside the city gates and tried to gain entry, offering what help we could, but it was refused and eventually they no longer spoke to us, although we knew that there were people there still. We reluctantly left for Belfalas and did manage to speak to the descendants of Prince Imrahil in Dol Amroth. They told us that they were taking ship with their people to the far south where they had received reports that the temperatures were still warm and the ice had not reached there. It was they who pointed us towards where Maglor sat on the shores still. We persuaded him to come back with us and we heard nothing more of any other survivors after that. We did not know that Radagast was still here or that he had managed to seek shelter. As far as we knew only ourselves deep underground in Eryn Lasgalen and possibly the Naugrim in their mountain, survived and possibly those who fled south from Dol Amroth."

"By that time the eyes of the Valar had turned inwards to Valinor." Glorfindel took up the tale. "When I arrived back I was able to reassure Elrond and Celebrian and also Galadriel that their loved ones were safe and well. I then spoke to the Valar of the ice beginning to spread from the north. There was little the Valar could do against the might of the glacier, to do that they would have had to ask Eru to intervene so they made their decision to look after what they could realistically look after in Valinor. It was only when the ice melted later that thought was given to Middle-earth, but that Ice Age was only the first of many and it was then assumed that all life had been extinguished."

Elrond had gone pale. "How is it that we were not told of this?" He whispered. "There were those of us who _still_ had family there. We assumed they were alive and well, but it is clear to me that the Valar did not think they still lived. Why did they not tell us?"

"It didn't matter Elrond." Thranduil soothed his friend. "They could not have been sure. Perhaps they still had hope even though they knew the chances of any of us surviving were slim to none. It was only once the final Ice Age, which only lasted some five hundred mortal years, began to recede that the way became clear for us to leave our protection. The forests had begun to spring up again, although the trees were strange in form. Beasts and birds had begun to appear. The Avari left us as suddenly as they appeared and what has become of them I know not. It was then that your sons and Celeborn travelled back to Imladris, but what remained was not what they remembered and loved and so they went to the Havens and found that although Cirdan was no longer there, he had left the frame of a Swan Ship and materials to finish her. They completed the ship and they and the rest of the household sailed West, leaving Celeborn who felt his presence was still needed here. He came back to Eryn Lasgalen, but left soon after to travel. He said he wanted to see what had happened to Middle-earth. The rest you know."

"In the meantime." Seth interjected smoothly. "Father, he who you call Eru, had decided that the humans that had survived who were few but beginning to breed larger and larger groups, needed to be observed. Six hundred of us were chosen from the ranks of the Ainur to come down to earth. We were told that we would be living in a hostile environment and so most chosen were warriors, but among them were also a few scholars trained in the various arts; agronomy, astrology, mathematics, writing, reading and medicine. We were told to trade with the men of the plains once we had established our stronghold and guide when we could. Kharsag, or Eden in the common tongue of the kind was built for us as a stronghold on many terraces with beautiful gardens and from there, the Watchers as the plains folk named us or Grigori as the Greeks later called us, we went down among the people." He sighed deeply at that point. "At this juncture the story becomes complicated, but suffice to say that we were not distant guardians like your Valar. We were there living in the midst of mortals and even though we tried to remain aloof and not get involved in their wars and battles, it was difficult and our aloofness only led them to attribute us with greater powers than we wished or, indeed, had, although our powers given to us by Father must seemed godlike to them. And so they called us Gods, although we were not. Only one has the right to that name."

"How many of you still remain?" Elrond asked quietly.

"Of the six hundred, two hundred decided that our involvement with mortal man was not enough. Against the will of our leader they left and went down to the plains, there to teach the people things they needed to know, but also things they should _never _have known. They took mates from among the mortal women and children were born to them, a mixture of Ainur and mortal, large powerful creatures called the Nephilim. They grew in power and greed and their armies were led by those Ainur who had fathered them. It was then that Father decided to recall the group back to the Timeless Halls. Mortal man would develop on their own, only with the briefest of overseeing. A small group were chosen to remain behind. I was one of those. In the meantime it was decided that the two hundred who transgressed were to be found and punished. Seraphim and Kerubim, angelic warriors all, were sent to find them and so those who fell were brought back and punished. Their leader, Semjaza, was given the worst punishment. After he had witnessed the execution of his children, his soul was severed from his body and hung upside down in the star system called Orion, that which the Eldar call Menelmacar, his mouth was sewn shut so that he could never again utter the true name of God. One eye was shut and the other open so that he was always falling and could _always_ see his plight. He hung there for an eternity as a warning to others."

The Elves were filled with horror at the intransigence of the punishment. So much so that it was some minutes before any of them spoke. Finally Elrond found his voice.

"And the others? Those who were punished with him."

"They were handed over to the Seraphim Michael who caused them to witness the death of their children in bloody combat with each other, and then he bound them and pinned them under the hills of the earth, where they were meant to remain for seventy generations or until the day of judgment whichever was to come first. Only two escaped that punishment, Sariel and Asradel, and both live here still. Some of their offspring escaped their fates, however, and fled into the deep deserts and there they still remain. They are called the Anakim and they content themselves with recording and studying the deep esoteric knowledge and lore of the Annunaki. We meet with them occasionally to seek counsel over matters concerning us all."

The Elves and Radagast has recoiled in horror by this time, but still Elrond persisted.

"You said '_meant_' to remain for seventy generations. Surely they were dead when they were entombed?"

Seth shook his head. "Not dead, still living, for such was their punishment and they required no such things as sustenance to keep them alive. But Michael had not taken into account the ingenuity and curiosity of modern man. Gradually as interest in things buried and ancient grew greater because of man's desire to know where and who they came from, sites of interest were excavated and slowly but surely, those pinned beneath them were accidentally released back into the world. A world that had much changed in the interim."

"Buried alive?" Elrond simply could not keep the horror out of his voice now.

Seth nodded. "Such was considered the seriousness of their crimes. They incited bloody wars among mankind and stopped any kind of notion of peaceful development among mortals. Father was furious that the children had been so interfered with, even if the intentions at first had been good. When they were finally released many were crazed and didn't know where they were going, but some deep instinct took them to the desert and the Anakim who gave them shelter, but gradually as they grew strong and well, they sought the group who had been left behind to observe and now they are part of us. They are, however, forbidden to walk the Paths of the Moon (2) to communicate directly with the Father and their judgment will come in time."

Radagast was having an increasingly hard time visualising the Valar or any of his fellow Maiar doing anything like this. He had heard some of these stories before but never couched in these matter of fact terms or in such detail. On the surface it seemed that these Grigori were more like Melkor and his people in the harshness and apparent cruelty of their actions than they were the Valar or Maiar. Their only mitigating factor was the fact that Eru himself had ordered the punishments, but his face must have said it all for all of them. Seth saw it too and decided to address the issue.

"You must understand that those were harsh times, in fact, they were apocalyptic times. Mankind was in its infancy and they suffered terribly under the regimes of the Nephilim. Great ill was done to them by our kind and therefore only a harsh punishment was possible for the wrongdoers." He said quietly. "And now you know what the major difference between your Valar and Maiar and the Grigori are. However The Valar also made many erroneous judgments and many of those also resulted in the people of Middle-earth suffering. Yet because they had stewardship of the world as it was then, Father did not interfere with their rulings unless they specifically asked him to, in the case of Numenor for example. The example of Middle-earth was endured and no punishments were offered for a failure to perform, but the second time, failure could not be excused, and the Ainur remaining on earth and in the Halls now live and operate in a different, harsher atmosphere, whereas the Valar and Maiar still live in the peace and beauty of Valinor. Do not judge us too harshly, we, the Grigori who remain, have tried to benefit mortal man and guide by example. We live as they do and our powers are only executed in the company of our own kind and rarely openly upon mankind."

There was a long silence while the Elves and Radagast internalised everything they had been told. Seth remained quiet. He had told them much and they had much to consider. He finally rose to his feet and went to the door.

"You have much to think on, perhaps we should leave it there for tonight."

Thranduil jumped to his feet. "This current darkness...this Herumor...where do you stand where _he _is concerned?"

Seth stopped in the doorway. "Herumor is not of our doing. He is a throwback from the time of the Valar. _Your_ time. My brother, the Maia Eönwë, was brought back into the world in the form of a mortal, the better to help him understand and deal with the world of Men. Our instructions with regard to him were clear. We were to observe his development and offer assistance only when he had come fully into his own and then only if he needed it. Once he was fully developed and ensconced within the world of men, only then would he be allowed to remember his true nature."

"And Melkor interfered with that." Elrond said softly.

Seth nodded. "Yes and we did not realise what he had done until the rift in time occurred, brought on by the upheaval in Middle-earth during the time of the War of Wrath. Grigori were sent to the place where the rift had opened, but Eönwë, in the form of the mortal Gary Matthews had already unwittingly passed through it with three others. We prepared to follow, but then things came through the rift from that time and we were ordered to deal with the worst of that before it affected earth. Yet something still escaped us. We knew it had and we pursued it, but it was clever and eluded us and went to ground for a while. We decided to observe events as they happened and keep watch for that which had escaped through the rift in time. We believe that this piece of the darkness of spirit that was the fallen Vala Melkor was _not _able to take physical form, but did manage to resurrect someone to serve him and this servant is Herumor. He is working to prepare the world for the return of his Master. To build up armies with which he will do battle at the End Time. This cannot be permitted and so we are ordered to give Eönwë and his people such help as they may need."

"And Moria?" Thranduil demanded. "Something is still here is it not? Is it that piece of dark spirit? Has it gone to ground in Moria?"

Seth gave a thin smile. "Well that, my friends, is what we are all here to find out, under the auspices of an archaeological dig. You should be made aware that the contract from the dig was applied for by two companies, Grigori Enterprises and Angband Enterprises..." He saw the others start at the mention of Angband Enterprises. "Yes, I see you know the name. Grigori Enterprises _is _running the dig, but only because our leader Joaquim pulled in some considerable favours from the Swiss government. Otherwise Herumor and his lackeys would have free run of the place and believe me, he was _desperate_ to obtain the contract. But that is not to say that some of his people are not already there. I believe it was one of those that we heard earlier on during the recce."

"Orcs?" Glorfindel was immediately on alert.

"Possibly, but others who work to evil ends _also_ live in perpetual darkness and my intelligence from my headquarters at Vevey say that the mines are already being worked once again. How true this is I do not know. The actual mines themselves lie deep within Moria. We will have to explore extensively and descend deeply to see for ourselves. And that, gentlemen, is our task and since the survival of the world and mankind is at stake here, we have no choice but to accept the challenge." Seth opened the trailer door and then turned on the top step. The Elves and the Maia were quite still with expressions of trepidation on their faces. The Grigori saw that and his tone was soft. "Get some rest gentlemen. Tomorrow is another day and I believe that we have two more of your company joining us late tomorrow...another Eldar named Celebrimbor and an American former serviceman, Hal Kenwood."

He did not wait to hear any replies, but immediately headed off to his own trailer to catch up on paperwork and make his report to his superiors.

Everyone remaining in the trailer was quiet for a moment, each deep in their own thoughts. Elrond could not help but think about those last remaining members of his daughters and Estel's line. Had they frozen or starved to death in that mighty city with the huge doors barred against an enemy they could never have fought off and denying all efforts from friends? Had they spent their last hours comforting each other? How would they have chosen to die, by their own hands or a death by succumbing to the extreme cold? He had heard many a story that dying from the cold was a kind, peaceful death. At first one tried to keep warm but then as the body shut down, a deep sleep would come and a false sensation of warmth. A tear stole from the corner of his eye and trickled down his cheeks and he wiped it away with his sleeve. Surely his and Celebrian's search for _any_ kind of descendant could not end painfully and pointlessly like this?

Thranduil was thinking about his wife and wondering whether her spirit was at peace. Tales spoke of houseless spirits being taken by the darkness and it was always at the back of his mind that his wife's spirit had been sucked up by Sauron. And if she had survived Sauron's fall at the destruction of the Ring, would her spirit have then gone free again only to be taken up by Herumor, that black servant of an even blacker master? Perhaps Legolas had the right of it, leaving as he did when the golden Age of Men was at its height and hopes were high. By doing so, he had missed the worst of it all, as had Elrond. His memory of his mother was still bright and un-tarnished and it was clear from the letters that Elrond had brought that he still believed her fea to be in the Halls of Waiting. But Elrond's sons _had_ witnessed much of the depredation in Middle-earth as had Celeborn. Obviously _none_ of them had spoken of it to those in Valinor.

For Glorfindel, twice born warrior, his thoughts were much more straightforward. He had looked straight past the explanations given by Seth and seen that the Grigori's fea blazed pure and clean within, just as Eönwë's did and Radagast's. He had already decided that Seth at least was worthy of his trust and he would wait and see whether the others were. Glorfindel could be a very complicated person on the surface, but at his heart he was not a mystery. He was a kind, good-hearted, loyal and very perceptive Elf.

Radagast had known the Grigori long enough and heard their story often enough to be reasonably un-fazed by it. He could overlook the apparent cruelty and harshness of his Ainur brethren, he just wanted to see Arda at peace so that he could eventually return to his Lord and Lady and _any_ help was welcome to him to that end.

"It will be nice to see Celebrimbor again." Elrond had wiped his tears, but his voice was still suspiciously hoarse.

"I never really knew him." Said Thranduil, getting up to pour four glasses of wine which he immediately distributed among them all.

Glorfindel frowned. "Surely you must have met him at the Mouths of the Sirion? I distinctly remember your mother and father being there."

Thranduil frowned. "Of course I _knew_ of him. After Maglor and Maedhros made their attack, all the talk was of them and many thought that Celebrimbor should have been punished which always seemed damned silly and very unworthy of those Eldar since he was not involved in the attack. Yet still, even _knowing_ that, many held it against him _because_ it was his uncles who perpetrated the second Kinslaying and therefore he was just as guilty by dint of blood. Oropher always thought it was unfair and he did offer for him to come with us further into Middle-earth, but he refused and of course we know what eventually happened to him. I don't recall actually _meeting_ him face to face myself though. I was with one of the rear parties during the War of Wrath, I did not ride with Gil-galad when he and Cirdan got involved with that business over the Herald and the mortals from modern times. My father considered me to be too young and inexperienced a warrior still and my mother was greatly relieved by that decision."

Glorfindel turned to Radagast. "Changing the subject, what can you tell us of this Hal Kenwood, the American who is coming with Celebrimbor? I understand you know him very well."

A bright smile beamed across Radagast's face. "He is one of the greatest mortals I have ever met, his fea is bright and fearless and better than that he is a loyal friend and a good man to have at your back in trouble. There was a time when he and I were in Vietnam..."

Thranduil smiled to himself as the Maia launched into yet another "Pull up a slit trench and let me tell you about when we were in the real war' tales. He lay back on his bunk and allowed himself to be pulled into the tale, but his eyes were on what he could see of the stars in the sky above the mountains. They seemed to shine more brightly than usual and for the first time in many a year Thranduil Oropherian, King of Mirkwood and latterly Eryn Lasgalen felt that he wasn't alone.

ooOoo

**London Heathrow Airport  
**

Celebrimbor's eyes were like saucers as he followed Hal Kenwood through the airport and up a moving staircase to an upper level. The American had watched patiently and with amusement crinkling the corners of his grey eyes as the Elf had stood at the top of the escalator while the cogs in his brain turned as they tried to figure out how it worked.

He looked at his watch for the third time. "If we hurry up we can get a beer or a coffee before we board the Bern flight."

Celebrimbor looked up at him from his position on the floor where he had been trying to work out how the walkway disappeared. "It is a constantly revolving belt on a sort of series of tracks, but what moves it, I cannot tell." He said finally, getting to his feet, much to Hal's relief since the police on airport duty had already walked past twice and looked askance at the figure kneeling down by the escalators.

"That it is." Hal agreed. "If you like I can look it up on my laptop so you can read how they work. But let's get that coffee first."

Celebrimbor picked up the rucksack Chief had loaned him and slung it over his shoulder. "Lead on, good Dunedain. Is this coffee the same as Erestor gave me last night after dinner?"

Hal grinned. "The stuff they serve in airports probably isn't as good as the coffee Erestor serves, but it'll do. If you don't like it we can get you a beer."

Celebrimbor wrinkled his nose. "And this beer is like the ale the Dwarves drank, only not as dark or strong. Lord Eönwë explained it to me. Is it true that we will travel in a metal casing like a tube through the skies to our destination? Haldir says it is most unpleasant, but Master Elladan said quite the opposite and Lady Kim said I should see for myself."

"I would say the same as Lady Kim. See for yourself. Some folk love air travel, some are scared of it. It's just a way of travelling to me and I done so much of it, I don't pay it no mind any more." Came Hal's laconic reply. "Just try to keep your questions about how it works to a minimum. I daresay the stewardesses don't know all that much about theory of aerodynamics and the pilot's too busy flying the plane."

Celebrimbor grinned at him. "I will try not to be a nuisance. But this travelling over great distances only takes a short while?"

Hal led him into one of the terminal's bars and sat them both down at a table. He smiled at one of the young waitresses who came over to take their order. He ordered two coffees and then turned to Celebrimbor who was seated but craning his neck this way and that. His eyes were still huge as they took in the hustle and the bustle. He caught the eye of two young women travellers who leered at him and giggled when he gave them a friendly smile in greeting.

"About an hour. They're about one hour ahead of us in time zones though." Hal said, and then immediately wished he hadn't mentioned time zones.

"How will we know when this metal tube will be ready to leave?" The Elf's bright eyes regarded Hal over the table as they waited for their coffee, but to Hal's great relief he didn't fire another barrage of questions about how could the same place on earth be in a different time, although the American could see the questions already milling around behind his eyes and threatening to overflow.

Hal pointed at the screens overhead. "Our flight is listed there with the flight number. When the gate opens, it'll show on the screen next to our flight and there'll be a gate number. We start heading along to the gate then."

The waitress came over with the coffee and set it out on the table. Hal smiled his thanks and she blinked a little when Celebrimbor added his beautiful smile to the mix. When she had gone back to serve someone else Celebrimbor leaned over the table as Hal liberally sugared his coffee.

"Are all of these people travelling in the metal tube?" He asked in a conversational tone that was overheard by an elderly couple who turned around to look at him with eyebrows raised. Hal rolled his eyes slightly, they obviously thought that the Elf was probably mentally disabled to the point of being childlike. He shrugged at them and the elderly women gave an understanding nod of her head.

"Nope. Some of them work at the airport, some are here seeing other people off. There will be a lot of people in the Arrivals side who have flown from somewhere and are returning. A lot of these..." He waved his spoon around at the bustle of humankind. "...will be flying today, but not in the same plane as us or to the same place. They could be travelling anywhere in the world, or at least Europe."

"These tubes fly down south where the Southrons live?" The Elf persisted.

Hal took a sip of his coffee and then choked slightly at the blunt question. "They do that, but the people who live there aren't called Southrons these days my friend. Africa is where they live, but not everyone in Africa has a dark skin. Black Americans are called African American, but we need to be careful when we use terms to describe someone's race these days, because some of them can seem very insulting to them."

Celebrimbor's brow creased in confusion. "So black is no longer considered polite to describe someone of darker colour?"

"The way I do it buddy, is to just treat everyone the same, regardless of their colour, race or religion. I put people into two categories, they're either good people who do nice things or they're bad people and you can get both in whatever race they're from. Generally I'm just polite to everyone unless they try to kill me. My Ma always used to say 'handsome is as handsome does'. "

The Elf regarded him seriously. "I think your 'Ma' was a very wise woman."

Hal took a slug of his coffee and looked up at the screen. A gate number was now flashing by their flight. He gestured at the coffee. "She was indeed. Better drink up, our gate is ready."

An hour and a half later Hal was nearly wetting himself with laughter at the look of utter delight on Celebrimbor's face as the plane took off into the air. He pressed his nose against the cold oval of the window and goggled at the land far below them.

"The sea!" He crowed. "We are flying over the sea. Just wait until I tell Cirdan about this."

Hal chuckled to himself. This trip was going to be a blast...a potentially dangerous blast, but fun nevertheless.

ooOoo

**(1) Hayyoth,** Holy living creatures; Qabbalistic term for the four creatures of Ezekiel's vision, generally referred to as the Kerubim. These holy living creatures are the four symbolic beasts which in the zodiac are called Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, and Aquarius.

**(2) The Paths of the Moon, **is the method Shaman's use to connect themselves to the world of spirit. In the sense used by the Grigori it's the way they are allowed to communicate with God in the Timeless Halls. Only those who did not fall from grace can use this form of communication.


	38. Hi ho Hi ho, it's off to work we go

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Once again thank you to my reviewers and straight on with the story.

" Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that the stuff life is made of. "

___**- **____**Benjamin Franklin**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 38 – Hi Ho Hi Ho, off to work we go**

**The First Hall of Moria**

What a difference a night had made. The expedition electricians, under the instruction of Dr Bob Dearham, had now strung lighting down the entire length of the First Hall and the whole area was now lit up. The dark recesses previously present were now clearly seen as part of an archway system. One wide area ran down the middle of the hall, large enough for someone to jokingly christen it 'the Caveman Ballroom'. On either side of that large area there were a series of elaborately carved archways which you could walk through and reach the actual walls of the Hall. The whole room ran down to the wide set of steps Seth and the others had come across the previous evening.

Down in the gloom, working by the light of torches, the electricians were busy laying wires down the stairs which led to tall stands each holding a single floodlight. They had worked their way either side of the area placing these powerful lights until they finally reached the large stone arches on either side and then they had stopped.

Most of the expedition other than those bent on more important tasks had gathered at the top of the stairs. It had been decided that since there was next to no debris in the hall itself that there was little to damage, but heavy plastic sheeting had been placed over the floor along with boards to walk on.

The three Elves and Radagast were standing with Seth and Dr Hallam and the rest of the recce team in the middle of the stairs. Dr Hallam's white hair was nearly standing on end with the sheer excitement of it all. There was a buzz of conversation flowing around and a sense of exhilaration and achievement filled the atmosphere. Finally the head Gaffer trudged up the steps and walked past the throng waiting at the top of the stairs. He headed towards the control panels near the generators.

"It's like bloody Blackpool illuminations." One British wag was heard to comment and a ripple of laughter passed around the waiting throng. The reference was lost on the Elves, even Thranduil who had never experienced the delights of the British seaside resort, but Radagast laughed and so did Seth.

"I doubt Moria saw this level of light, even when the Dwarves lived here." Glorfindel said in a low voice.

Elrond chuckled. "I suspect not, or at least not once it had fallen to ruin. However reports that I read in the old days described the halls of Dwarrowdelf as being lit with great crystal lights in Durin's day. It must have looked quite different then. A great city with Dwarves trading, working and bustling around. I imagine that Celebrimbor would be able to tell us more since he out of all of the Eldar had extensive dealings with the Naugrim and often visited here."

Seth turned to them with a smile. "And this is why his presence here is needed."

Everyone suddenly fell quiet, as though there was a natural lull in every conversation in the room. A moment's silence reigned, only broken by someone coughing and someone else clearing their throat.

Elrond had opened his mouth to reply to Seth but then the lights suddenly came on and instead of speaking, his mouth opened even further in amazement.

The area in front of them was suddenly ablaze in the bright lights of the now floodlit area. The colours and thin veins of Truesilver flickered and danced in front of eyes momentarily blinded by both the light and carved stone beauty of the architecture that soared right up towards the roof of the cavern which all could now see had to have been at least a thousand feet above them.

There was no sound from anyone. Not even an 'ooh' or an 'aaaah'. Instead there was an awestruck silence at the grandeur that surrounded them. This was no caveman's cave. This was an engineering and architectural achievement second to none. It could have easily taken its place as the Eighth Wonder of the World alongside the other seven.

The Elves and Radagast were no less impressed or awed by the sight displayed in front of them. Even the harsh bright floodlights didn't lessen the spectacle. Thranduil glanced along to the right and the huge archway that led to what now looked like some kind of gallery or wide passageway with a low wall and upper arches between it and the sheer drop below. It ran for about a quarter of a mile and then turned sharply to an angle of ninety degrees from where it carried on until turning sharply once again.

The light, now boosted by the glow from the fissure was still strong enough so that even _that_ far away Thranduil could see that the gallery itself actually crossed over the fissure and carried on all the way to the other side where the darkness began again and nothing further could be seen. However Thranduil's sharp Elven eyesight could make out two massive bronze doors at the end, just before the gallery disappeared into the gloom. He couldn't quite make out as to whether that was the actual only way out from the gallery.

The same could be seen on the left side, so Thranduil came to the conclusion that the gallery was like a rectangle and probably met at the other end, either by a hall similar to the area in front of them now or perhaps the doors were the way into the next part of the Dwarven city. The bridge, Durin's Bridge as he now recalled it being named, obviously must have led over to that point and was a way of getting to the other side without having to run all the way around the gallery. There had to be a way out over there, especially if this bridge was indeed Durin's Bridge. The Fellowship had to have come from somewhere over there. They entered Moria through the West Gate and left it via the East Gate or the Dimrill Gate.

"It's a short cut." He said suddenly, prompting the others to look at him in query. "A way of getting from this Hall to whatever is over the other side. The galleries to the right and left go all the way around. The bridge is the shortest way over the fissure, otherwise you had to take a much longer route."

"I believe you may be correct." Hallam beamed at him. "And of course as part of the recce team you will have your chance to find out what is on the other side. Excuse me...I must go and see Bob Dearham." He left them and went to talk to a couple of the archaeologists who were standing talking earnestly with Dr Dearham.

Elrond leaned in closer to Glorfindel and Thranduil, Radagast had made himself scarce. "I see doors on the other side."

They both nodded, they had seen them as well and what _they _had seen, Seth had no doubt also spotted. He said nothing however and instead started politely, but firmly, chivying everyone back to their appointed tasks. Carver Grissom and the rest of the team stood to one side waiting for Seth to come back and brief them for the day's reconnaissance. Like the Elves, they were already kitted out in their patrol gear. As they stood waiting for Seth to come back and join them workmen had already started to unroll plastic sheeting over the floor down in the antechamber and others were carrying the large boards that would be used for people to walk on.

"We'll wait until they get the sheeting and boards down before heading out." Seth's calm voice intruded on the silence. "We can't go over the bridge so we will have to go around. So take your choice gentlemen. Left or right?"

"Right." The team said almost in unison and a ripple of laughter spread around the small group.

Seth chuckled. "Right it is then. We need to wait for Bob Dearham to join us, as he will again be mapping the area. Dr du Pree will be joining us for this. He's just gone to get kitted out. We'll also have a couple of new members coming from the UK tonight. I will brief them when they arrive. They will join us tomorrow."

"How far are we going today?" The man who had almost fell in the fissure the previous evening ventured to ask.

Seth shook his head. "That will depend on what obstacles we find in our way. We can't see all the way around the gallery, we have no idea if there have been rock falls. There may well have been and we might get halfway around to the right and find that we can't get past, then we'll have to try the other way and get a team in to shift the rubble in the meantime. It's all trial and error at the moment. Dr du Pree will be using some state of the art portable radar technology equipment to try to tell us what, if anything is on the other side of rubble, walls or doors. It can detect people and sometimes even breathing and is usually used for rescue situations in earthquakes and other such disasters." (1)

By this time Radagast had joined them. Glorfindel bit back a snort of laughter at the Maia who looked extremely uncomfortable when kitted out in the same almost military combat gear everyone else was wearing. He even carried a sidearm, a pistol in a clunky looking holster and he managed to make the helmet look ridiculous and far too big for him because it wobbled on top of his head. However unabashed, he hefted the pack containing his equipment.

"Well _I'm _ready to go." He said cheerfully. "Shan't speak for everyone else."

Seth laughed, clapped him companionably on the shoulder and turned to the others who were all hiding wide grins. "Okay, let's head out then...oh wait...we're missing Bob."

"Oh yeah." Carver muttered between his teeth. "Let's not forget Bob."

Seth bit back a snort of laughter as a harassed looking Bob Dearham clattered up to them spilling bits and pieces from his pack. Glorfindel and Elrond helped him pick them up. They stuffed them in his pack and he pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose and beamed his thanks at them.

"Sorry...sorry..._sorry_." He apologised to just about everyone in turn. "I forgot to get the damned gun out of the armoury. Why do we need guns anyway? Surely we're not expecting trouble in here? Anyone can see that it's not been inhabited for a while."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that if I was him." Carver muttered again, causing the Elves and Seth to glance at him sharply. He shuffled his feet with embarrassment when he saw that their attention was riveted on him. "What? I thought I heard something moving around last night."

Seth raised his eyebrows. "You didn't say anything to anyone."

The Australian flushed to the roots of his hair. "Well...no...nobody else seemed to notice anything so I thought it was my imagination. I didn't want to look like a prize idiot who hears things that aren't there."

"Okay." Seth sighed. "For the record. If _any_ of you hear _anything_ suspicious or even just anything at all, you let me know _immediately. _It could be something or it could be nothing, but I want to know about it. We don't know who built this place or why, and I doubt the builders are still in residence, but other things could be. It's big enough to sustain some sort of animal life, if only a rat or a few bats. Now, are we _quite_ sure we're all ready?" His tone was heavy with sarcasm.

"Yes." They all chorused back.

"Well thank the Lord for small mercies. Shall we go?"

ooOoo

**Bern Belp Airport, Switzerland**

Celebrimbor stood impatiently with the trolley holding their luggage to one side of the Hertz Car Rental desk while Hal completed the paperwork for a rental four wheel drive. Not that Celebrimbor actually knew what a four wheel drive was. He watched with interest as the American signed with a flourish and then produced a small gold coloured card which the desk clerk swiped through some sort of machine.

Celebrimbor's natural curiosity was constantly bouncing from one thing to another in this modern world of men, but he did know now that the card was called a credit card and it was used instead of actual money. He had asked Hal to elucidate when the American had paid for their coffees with the card.

His sharp eyes missed nothing. They gleamed almost maniacally as they spotted the revolving doors leading to the outside of the terminal building. Every fibre in his being strived to get him to just go over to them and have a little look. He goggled as he realised that the doors just went round and around permanently. More magic like the escalator described in the article Hal read out to him perhaps. Or like the electric light Eönwë had begun to explain to him and then given up because it got far too long and involved and technical causing his wife to cackle wildly at him when Celebrimbor just ended up more confused than he has been _before_ he asked how it worked.

There were _so _many interesting things and gadgets in Middle-earth now and Celebrimbor wanted to know exactly how each and every one of them worked. How his grandfather would have loved it..._or maybe not._ He thought. He would probably have dismissed electric light for starters considering he had already invented the Silmarils which held the incomparable light of the Two Trees.

Hal finally received a package of papers and a set of keys from the girl behind the desk. He put the keys in his padded jacket pocket and headed over to where Celebrimbor was waiting.

"Okay. We're all set. Let's head out to the car park and find our vehicle." He grabbed the trolley and started pushing it towards the ordinary doors on either side of the revolving doors.

Celebrimbor followed him. As they reached the door he looked beseechingly at Hal who groaned. "Okay, _okay_. _Go_ through the revolving doors, but I warn you, I'm not gonna stand here for half a day while you go round and around in them. You go in, you move with the doors and you come out on the other side...and _no._..before you say _anything_, the guy in the security uniform standing beside them does _not_ know how the magic doors work, so don't bother asking him."

Celebrimbor's silvery laughter rang out in the busy Arrivals terminal, but he good-naturedly agreed to Hal's terms. Even so, Hal still ended up waiting patiently while Celebrimbor trod slowly through the doors and then was too late jumping out so he had to go around again.

He had such a huge grin on his face when he finally emerged victorious after his battle with the fascinating doors that Hal simply didn't have the heart to scold him.

"Come on. We'll end up getting to the dig at midnight tomorrow at this rate."

"It used to take me three days to reach the West Gate of Moria in the old days on horseback." The former Lord of Eregion said brightly. "And if your maps are accurate we are further away here than Ost-in-Edhil was. Arriving at midnight the next day would have been _wondrously_ fast."

Hal was too busy pushing the trolley over to the airport terminal car park to pay much attention to the Elf's rambling discourse on travel in ancient Middle-earth. Next to the terminal car park stood the one for the hire cars. He strode purposefully towards it while Celebrimbor trailed after him. The Elf's eyes were constantly like saucers at everything in the modern world. He wanted to know about it all immediately if not sooner. In fact he was so busy staring at the pedestrian traffic lights over the crossing from the terminal to the car park that he was almost run over by a passing taxi who beeped in annoyance at him. Hal had to jump back and pull him onto the pavement by his jacket.

"You're gonna get yourself killed." Hal shook his head in despair. "And _then_ what do I tell Lord Eönwë? That you were reborn from the Halls of Waiting only to be run over by a damn taxicab?"

He hoped beyond hope that Celebrimbor would stop acting like a star-struck teenager real soon and get his act together when they got in that damned mine or whatever it was. Hal's deep soldier instincts were raging with the premonition that their task in Moria was going to be very dangerous and those instincts were seldom wrong as Radagast could have willingly attested.

Celebrimbor smiled apologetically. "I am sorry. I just wanted to see the sequence of lights. In any case I think Lord Namo would just instantly restore me from sheer exasperation if that happened."

"Red for stop, amber and then green for go. Lord Namo has my sympathies." Hal growled. He headed over to where a large dark blue vehicle was standing and checked the paperwork. "There's ours."

He used the remote to open the doors and the trunk and pushed the trolley over to it. Celebrimbor hoisted the kit-bags and the rucksacks into the large space that revealed itself when the trunk was open.

Once they were settled in the car, Hal reached over and pulled Celebrimbor's seatbelt over his lap and shoulder and firmly clicked it into place. He adjusted his own seat and the mirrors and then punched in his travel destination into the Satnav. Finally he pulled away, out of the car park and onto the main drag. Celebrimbor's eyes nearly shot out of his head on stalks when a female voice came from nowhere and calmly announced that they needed to turn left at the lights.

"Where...?" He croaked, craning his neck to get a better look at the small screen of the Satnav console to see where the lady was.

"It's a computer." Hal explained. "I put my start point and my destination into the computer and it calculates the best route and then it tells me where to go."

"Ai..." Whispered Celebrimbor. "These things are wondrous to behold."

Hal pulled off the airport slipway when the voice told him to and headed onto the main road through to the Great St Bernard Pass. He would have suggested that the Elf got some shuteye, but he could see quite clearly that he was far too excited to do anything so sensible.

A few hours and one stop for lunch later and the four wheel drive was effortlessly climbing the steep approaches to the pass. Celebrimbor hadn't recognised any of the land around so far. This was a mixed blessing really since part of him didn't really _want _to remember the place where he had suffered so terribly on the day of his death. He had been afraid that there would be many things to remind him of that day, but to his relief he remembered nothing of the land that used to be Eregion. He also didn't remember the West Gate being so high up, so they must have come much farther along, but he did remember the High Pass and Caradhras .

And as the late afternoon sun started to slowly sink behind the reddened snow capped peak, Celebrimbor, Lord of Eregion arrived back in Moria.

ooOoo

**The First Hall of Moria**

The Elves were impressed with the non-scientific patrol members. Most them were former military and there was one former German police officer and like the Elves and Seth their preparations for the recce were immediately businesslike. Seth and Thranduil took point as before and Elrond and Glorfindel brought up the rear. The veranda-like passageway proved to be wide enough for them to fan out, but Glorfindel felt uncomfortable with the fact that the arches and the low wall that ran alongside were hardly adequate cover from anyone watching their progress from the other side of the fissure. The further they progressed along the passageway, the more he felt a slight tingle on the back of his neck telling him that they were being observed. He kept turning, hefting the gun into a high port position and walking backwards, unconsciously echoing the movements of a modern soldier on patrol.

Elrond seemed to be doing the same thing and a faint smile came to Glorfindel's lips as he saw the Peredhil slip seamlessly into the movements of a ancient battle-honed warrior. It seemed strange at first to the Balrog-Slayer because he was now so used to Elrond in lore-master or healer mode, but he knew from experience that Elrond was an experienced battle commander.

Thranduil and Seth were also alert in their forward point positions and Radagast followed close behind, his pack of gear forgotten. He had drawn the pistol instead and was holding it ready. Beside him Carver Grissom, the German ex policeman whose name was Dieter and the Englishman were also becoming aware of the fact that there was something or someone on the other side of that veranda busy lining them up in their sights. Bob Dearham just marched along with them blissfully unaware of the possible danger.

"Do you see our friend over yonder yet?" Thranduil asked Seth in a low tone. His eyesight was excellent, but both Seth and Radagast had the instincts and extreme far sight of their Ainur race and could see a good deal more.

Seth shook his head. "Not clearly, but there is definitely_ someone_ there."

"Can you not just disincarnate and materialise over there? It would save some time."

Seth shook his head. "That ability was denied us when we came down to look after mankind. Eru decided that it was one ability we did not need, since we were meant to be living as humans. I would imagine that your Herald can still disincarnate. It would certainly come in handy in situations like this."

"I can't even do it." Radagast said mournfully from just behind Seth. "Like you, that ability was removed when we were sent back to Arda as Istari in the fight against Sauron and of course I never went back, so I never reclaimed my Maia form. I wish I had now."

"All right." Thranduil said reasonably. "Then I guess we do it the hard way."

They had, by this time, reached the point in the veranda where it turned a corner to the left. Each step they took brought them closer to whoever was concealed in the darkness, but the light from their combined torches was now penetrating it and gradually revealing more and more. Up to that point there had been nothing really to see. The passageway and the arches on their left were in a remarkably good state of repair. The other side of the passageway on the right had given way from a neatly bricked wall to a sheer wall of rock. The roof of the cavern rose up far beyond that. There were no rock falls and no obstacles in their way and they passed down unhindered by anything.

Thranduil's original thought that the veranda ran around the fissure in a rectangular form gave way as he realised that the passageways were equi-distant in the form of a square. As they walked cautiously down the other side and neared the next turning point which would take them onto the same part of the passageway as their watcher or watchers, Seth who was on the right hand side of the passageway next to the rock face suddenly noticed that there was a sort of ramp cut into it leading upwards. He held his hand up and halted the patrol, then he pointed silently up the ramp.

They all immediately adopted defensive positions. Thranduil quickly moved to the other side of the ramp and flattened himself against the rock face, looking upwards and aiming his P90. Carver Grissom had moved swiftly behind him and was crouched down near the low wall. Radagast had pushed Bob Dearham behind him and cocked his weapon as quietly as he could. Elrond and Glorfindel had taken crouched rear positions, the latter keeping an eye on the place where their hidden watcher was. The others were all placed strategically so that they could defend the group from all sides if necessary.

Seth moved cautiously upwards. He had unslung his P90, cocked it and was holding it ready. When he reached about quarter of the way up, he stopped and put his head on one side for a few moments, obviously listening for any untoward noises. Then he moved catlike and so swiftly up the rest of the ramp that he was literally a blur. Thranduil quickly gestured to Carver to come into his position and the man nodded, then the Elvenking almost as swiftly followed the Grigori up the ramp, weapon at the ready.

When Thranduil had almost reached the top, Seth had already disappeared onto something similar to a rocky plateau strewn with large and small boulders which evened out for short distance, the Elvenking could just see the beginning of it as he approached it, but before he could go any further Seth suddenly appeared at the top and he was not alone, for struggling wildly in his strong grasp and cursing furiously in Khuzdul was a small, stout figure with bright red shaggy hair and a long beard.

"Let me go ye blithering idiot." The little man spat out. "What de ye think ye're doing? Can't a Dwarf go about his business in peace in his own home without being bluddy manhandled by some great oaf?"

The little man glanced up at his captor and then immediately quailed, for Seth had obviously taken exception to being called a 'great oaf' and had turned a look on him that was pure Grigori; the lengthened, serpent-like features, the glowing silvered eyes and the sheer strength of the being holding him, plainly told him that this was no plain mortal.

"Mahal save me." He said in fright and passed out cold. Seth lifted him easily and strode back with him tucked under his arm down the ramp to the bottom, followed by a very amused Thranduil.

"I wish I'd been able to do that with them when they interfered with our feast in the forest." He said with a grin.

Seth dumped the Dwarf down on the stone floor and Thranduil could see that he had rearranged his features once again. Elrond came over and checked the Dwarf's pulse. He also lifted his eyelids and checked his pupils.

"He's just fainted." He announced finally with a grin. "He'll come around shortly."

"The bigger question is what in hell's name is the little blighter _doing_ in here?" Carver asked.

A groaning noise and then a small terrified squeak announced to all of them that their captive had regained consciousness and was staring up at them. He looked at each member of the patrol in turn and his mouth opened in astonishment when he set eyes upon the three Elves, then he fainted dead away again.

Carver let out a hoarse chuckle and dug Glorfindel in the ribs. "I bet you never thought you could make anyone faint dead away just at the sight of you like that." He joked.

The Balrog-slayer grinned back at him unabashed. "Oh I don't know." He said airily. "I've had my moments, although it's always been fair maidens and not short, hairy, unwashed Dwarves."

Elrond glanced up the ramp. "Was he alone Seth?"

Seth nodded. "I didn't detect anyone else up there. But as Carver rightfully said, the big question is what is he doing here and how did he get in? I think we had better take him back with us and get some answers."

He slung the Dwarf over his shoulder as though he weighed little more than a light rucksack and gestured to everyone to follow him back to the dig site.

"Well, I suppose it is possible that our friends over there are also Dwarves." Elrond said in a low voice. The Elves and Radagast were now bringing up the rear of the patrol and talking softly in Sindarin with each other.

"My guess is that they fled here during the Ice Age, thinking that they would survive here and simply stayed." Thranduil replied. "There could be quite a little colony here and if so then they have survived here despite any remnant of Sauron or Morgoth possibly taking refuge in the deeps of Moria."

"Perhaps they stayed in the upper halls of the city." Suggested Glorfindel. "But by the same token, perhaps they were watching us because something nasty _has_ taken refuge here and they have assumed we were servants of whatever it is. It would explain the furtiveness of their actions. Our little friend there was quite adequately hidden, if it had not been for the instincts of our Ainur companion he might have remained hidden up there and we would have passed him right by."

Elrond laughed softly. "Whatever the case, he certainly recognised Elves when he saw them, although I would imagine that the stories about the Eldar would have been passed down generation to generation."

Radagast wrinkled his brow. "But that would mean that they have lived here undisturbed for centuries...millennia in fact. Their lifespan is longer than that of an average human, but not long enough for them to be the same Dwarves who sought shelter here. And why would they have risked it? Moria is vast, there could have still been goblins or orc-kind hiding in here. I suppose though he would be able to give us that information, if he can be persuaded to answer questions. The Dwarves I knew were always such a stubborn, mule-headed bunch."

"I rather suspect that if anyone can get him to talk, Seth can." Thranduil said grimly. "I'm not sure _I _would be able to keep my mouth shut if he suddenly transformed himself into an avenging angel type."

They followed Seth up the steps as he carried his burden through the hall, totally ignoring the curious stares and whispers that followed him. At the top near the Admin area he turned and dismissed the patrol.

"Go and get some hot drinks." He looked down at his watch. "We will regroup here in one hour and resume the recce. I will get our little friend here settled in his new quarters and cool his heels for a while. We will question him later. "

Once they were seated in the catering trailer warming their hands around mugs of hot coffee the conversation was buzzing about the strange little red-haired man who seemed to be quite at home rambling around a city that had been supposed dead and blocked up by large pieces of mountain for thousands upon thousands of years. None of the Elves made any comment on the grounds that it might incriminate them and Radagast had gone to speak to Dr Hallam and Seth.

Thranduil finally stood up. "Hour's up guys, let's head back in and get ready for the off again."

As they left the trailer and headed back to the First Hall, Seth came out of Dr Hallam's trailer followed by Bob Dearham and Radagast. He nodded at the men as they headed back into the cavern, but stopped the three Elves.

"We will need your expertise and knowledge about these people." He said quietly. "He seemed to recognise what you were, so obviously _however _long they have been here they must have passed on stories about the old days in Middle-earth. I am not so much interested in_ how_ they survived, I am more interested in what else they have seen enter here, because _something_ made them very very wary and I am not so sure it's just because of our presence. After dinner I'd like you to report to my trailer and we will go and speak with him if you have no objections. Do any of you speak his language?"

Elrond looked at the other three and shrugged. "We have no objections to talking to him and all of us speak some Khuzdul, but he was speaking in the Common Tongue so we may not need it."

"Still it may help relax him, if you speak in his language." Seth smiled at them.

"He seemed very afraid of you." Elrond said quietly.

Seth regarded him calmly. "It is possible that he has met our kind before. I am not convinced that they have been here all the time without ever leaving. This would be a safe place for them to live without having to interact unnecessarily with mankind who may not have been so kind to them, so it makes sense that they may have lived here, but gone out and about in the world. In any case, stories of the Valar and Maiar may have also been passed down and perhaps he recognised me as something similar."

"That would make sense." Thranduil said thoughtfully. "But if it is the case, then perhaps other Naugrim groups have survived throughout the world. Perhaps even hobbits, I do remember a programme about these hobbit like creatures whose skeletons were found on some Indonesian island. Apparently,although the skeletons were adult they were no bigger than a three year old child and date back to 13,000 years ago which would match up with them disappearing during the Ice Age. They could have taken ship and gone south, just like the people of Dol Amroth. In fact they may have even actually taken ship _with _them."

"How wonderful if they could have survived." Elrond said hopefully. "If they did, then there is hope..." His voice trailed off, but they all knew what he was referring to. Glorfindel put his hand on Elrond's shoulder comfortingly.

"Anything is possible." Seth indicated for them to enter the cavern. "It is even possible that they may have news of others who survived that terrible time. In the meantime I suggest that we return to our reconnaissance, but I think we may need to be on guard, because some of the Dwarf's people may have seen us carry him off and they may not be too pleased about it."

As they congregated back in at the beginning of the passageway once more, it became clear to Seth, Radagast and the Elves that their watchers were no longer there and it was a pretty safe assumption that they had gone back to tell the others than one of their own had been taken by the strangers who were busy excavating their city.

ooOoo

(1) Cambridge Consultants Ltd (CCL) has successfully demonstrated a radical new type of radar technology that can 'see through walls'. The low frequency radar has the ability to detect the location and movement of people inside buildings, or simply breathing beneath rubble.


	39. Here's Another Fine Mess

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Once again thank you to my reviewers and straight on with the story. This is a shorter chapter and because it is primarily descriptive and explains some of why the Dwarf was wandering around Moria still, I believed it warranted one to itself.

"**Troll male**: I kill two dwarfs in the morning.  
**Troll male**: I kill two dwarfs at night.  
**Troll male**: I kill two dwarfs in the afternoon  
**Troll male**: And 'den I feel all right.  
**Troll male**: I kill two dwarfs in time of peace and two in time of war.  
**Troll male**: I kill two dwarfs before I kill two dwarfs.  
**Troll male**: And 'den I kill two more. "

___**- **____**World of Warcraft**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 39 – There's Another Fine Mess**

**In a secure trailer outside of Moria**

Arral of the Gilmalk Dwarven stronghold currently located in the ancient city of his forebears was in a pickle.

_A right old pickle_, he thought mournfully.

How was he going to explain to the others that he had been captured by the Big Folk when he had actually been wandering around where he shouldn't have been? And that explanation was going to pale into insignificance next to the astonishing revelations that Elves still lived here or that a terrifying creature who leaked silver light from his eyes had simply plucked him up from where he was hiding behind the massive rock some of his young companions had nick-named 'Troll-head' as if he didn't weigh much more than a baby and carried him off without even turning a hair?

He shook his head and pulled on his beard in despair. Nobody was _ever _going to believe him and why in the name of Mahal was he even _considering_ that the bright one would actually let him go ever again at all? This brought on a fresh bout of distress. He would never see his people again; he would never get a chance to tell them that Elves still lived. They would take him to one of those places that Bofi Greybeard had always talked about in the world of the Big Folk. And then they would do those 'experryments' on him.

Arral had absolutely no idea what an 'experryment' was and if the truth were told neither did Bofi, but everyone listened to him anyway, eyes wide with thrilled terror, as he explained what he had seen up there on the surface.

Bofi was an expert and the bravest of them all. Self-professed of course. But still, out of all of them he had wandered furthest afield in the world of the Big Folk, he had seen many things, some wondrous and some terrible and terrifying. He had told many tales of their tall, many storied houses and trading places, as tall as mountains; their huge box-like buildings with high fences around them, fences that were crowned with razor-sharp metal. Bofi had called them 'prisons' and the buildings without the metal fences were called 'hospitals'. People were taken into these places and they never came out again and now Arral was going to be one of those people.

Tears of shame and fright dripped out of his eyes, down his cheeks and dribbled down his beard. He started up in fright when he remembered the beard.

They would shave his beard off! His beautiful beard that was just starting to reach adult length.

"Oh no...no...NO.._not_ the beard!"

He wept loudly for the loss of something that he hadn't lost yet, but Bofi had plainly said that beards were frowned upon up there on the surface world. Most of the Big Folk were clean shaved and if they took you into one of their prisons or hospitals, they shaved them right off because of something they called 'Jerms'.

This last word had been rolled around Bofi's tongue with relish as he luxuriated in his captive and most attentive audience. It had sound like 'jerrrrrums' by the time he finished with it. He was a little vague as to what 'Jerms' actually were, but he was firm that they caused painful illnesses and death at the _very _least.

Nobody...but _nobody _in that fascinated audience that night around the story fire wanted to get 'Jerms' and the little ones had run around shrieking and chasing each other with sticks pretending to give each other Jerms until their mothers had called a halt to it. As it was, even teenagers like Arral had gone to bed and suffered nightmares that night and Mahal only knew what the little ones had dreamt about.

So all in all, going up top, as the Elders called it, was a risky business. You had to be specially trained to do it. You had to learn how to 'blend in', a process that sounded rather painful to Arral and he dreaded the day he would be old enough to 'blend in' like the other adult males. At the same time, he was rather fascinated by the world of the Big Folk, albeit a fascination of the terrible, so when the news came that the Big Folk had accidentally made a hole in the mountain and were poking around just inside, he could not resist the temptation to go and look.

Despite stern warnings from the Elders that only the Stronghold Marshals would keep watch in that area of the city, Arral had casually wandered through the massive empty halls and corridors of the deserted city until he drew near to the Broken Bridge in his efforts to try to catch a glimpse of the Big Folk about their business. He had his excuse all ready to offer if he was caught by the Marshals and it was that he was looking for special silver rocks. _All _the youngsters did that at some time or other.

He told himself that he wouldn't go _any_ closer than the long maze like passages of Zelem Melek, which was in the upper levels, just beyond the Twenty-first Hall where the Stronghold was camped and _before _you got you got to the straight path through Durin's Great Hall, or what remained of it, to the Great Delving which ran to the right and Nud-Melek which ran to the left.

The huge Second Hall was just inside Nud-Melek and he had always been told that it was _no_ place for young ones. It was rumoured that 'dark things', as yet unnamed, wandered the Second Hall and the Broken Bridge. They came up from the Redhorn Lodes, the actual mines of Moria, and only the Marshals ever went there and_ then _only bristling with armaments and armour. Arral considered himself to be an enlightened young Dwarf. He didn't believe in 'things' dark or otherwise, so surely it couldn't hurt just to go and have _one_ look?

The four Marshals who were keeping watch near the bridge had been kind enough, but still gruffly told him to be off with himself back to the Stronghold lest the Big Folk and their Jerms got him or even worse, the 'dark things'. How they had chuckled at that joke about the Jerms. He had moved away, but only far enough away so that they wouldn't see him behind a heap of boulders that had once been a wall. However, even from where he was he could see the bright glow that was the fiery hole and then further, across the hole, the soft glow of lights from the excavators. He had remained hidden for nearly two days, but that was fine because he had talked a small loaf and some soft goat's milk cheese out of one of the Matriarchs and had filled the canteen he had been given as a gift by his father with fresh water.

And so Arral had sat on the morning of the second day of his vigil and watched with growing fascination, and also trepidation, as the small figures of the Big Folk had come ever closer and grown larger. Much larger than that dratted Bofi had led them all to believe._ Much he knew, _Arral thought were headed by an elderly Big Folk with white hair and a tall, rather beautiful Big Folk from whom emanated a glow. The same glow also emanated from four of the others standing nearby, but their light was altogether softer.

_They were obviously not as important,_ Arral decided.

This was exciting. The Big Folk glowed! Or at least some of them did. Bofi had not mentioned this fact in his stories either. Perhaps the Big Folk _he_ had met were not as special as these were. Arral, _and _the Marshals if the truth were told, watched agog as Big Folk who did not glow pushed tall metal poles with peculiar metal boxes at the top into the the floor of the chamber just over Broken Bridge. Long ropes of some kind trailed from the poles, up the stairs and into the deserted Trading Hall beyond.

And then, when many more of the Big Folk, all shapes and sizes and some _bearded _it had to be said, congregated at the long stairs at the end of Broken Bridge, he knew something momentous was about to occur. Even the Marshals got to their feet and moved slightly closer, still taking care to remain in the shadows, to have a good look.

There were a few moments of silence and then light, bright and blinding, such as he had never seen in his entire life blazed from the metal boxes on the tall poles illuminating the entire area and pushing back the shadows he and the Marshals were concealed in. If he hadn't been so terrified himself, he would have laughed at sight of the four older Dwarves scrambling frantically backwards in their attempts to remain hidden. He himself fell backwards in shock.

Arral's curiosity was, of course, by now overflowing like lava from a volcano. He just _had_ to get a closer look, so he got to his feet as quietly as he could and started to move in the shadows in the direction of the Bronze Doors which had never been opened in the time he had lived there and certainly not in the times of his parents or grandparents. Nobody had any idea where they led to. Just before he reached the doors, he froze and stared out over the fissure. To his horror, one of the glowing Big Folk had turned in his direction. Arral moaned in fear as he saw that the Big Folk all apparently had bright beams of light in their heads that they could switch on and off. This Big Folk had obviously spotted him because it was looking _straight at him_!

It took him a few seconds to calm himself and his hammering heart down, but his legs still trembled and threatened to betray him. Then he noticed that one of the Marshals was not quite in the shadow. The Marshal apparently also noticed the lights in the Big Folk's head turn in the direction of where he, Arral and the other Marshals were concealed and he quickly scuttled to one side back into the shadows. Arral's relief when he saw the light on the Big Folk's head turn and follow the Marshal instead was overwhelming. _Now_ he could make his escape.

He knew that along the wide arched passageway on his left which led around the fiery hole there was a large ramp cut into the rock which led up to a rocky plateau. Beyond that, through a cleft there was the remains of one of the large deserted camps that littered the entire city. One of the Elders had taught them of the history of the place, how the Dwarves in the Before Time had delved so deep that they disturbed or released an ancient demon from long before, forgotten, and powerful which killed the old King Durin and then his son. The other Dwarves were unable to defeat it or even drive it away, for steel and stone had no effect on the ancient being, and so were forced to flee their ancient home. The City was then deserted, and the Eves renamed it Moria. Thereafter, Orcs of the Misty Mountains had made Moria their home. It was believed that these old campsites were those belonging to the Orcs so long ago and now, in their turn, were deserted.

The ramp was not the _only _way to get onto the plateau. Arral knew from his own observations and the old maps of the city and the mines. that further up the Second Hall, not quite halfway up, there was a steep set of stairs which had been another way back up to the Twenty First Hall. The passage through was now blocked from roof to floor with rubble, but on one side of the wall, near to what may have been an Orc guard encampment was a medium-sized hole in the wall, near to the ground, possibly made by the Orcs or Goblins themselves as an escape route. His cousin Largrim who was older than he was and his friends had explored that way once many seasons ago and found that once through the wall, it was an easy climb to reach the top of the plateau that overlooked the passageway around the fiery hole where the Big Folk were walking.

In a split second Arral made his decision. He had to find those stairs and that hole and he had to do it before the lights of the Big Folk alighted on him again.

He picked his way through the rocks and rubble that littered the end of the Second Hall near to where the Broken Bridge began. The Second Hall of Moria was massive but Arral had not done any exploring on his way through to spy on the Big Folk, instead he had kept to the far wall on the left and done his best to ignore the soft, sibilant noises of things flopping and plopping and the occasional squeal of some rodent in the darkness. The light from his little crystal lantern had not penetrated most of the gloom and he did not know what exactly was making those noises as he had crept towards the Broken Bridge and he didn't really want to know. It was because he had kept to that side that he had come across the steep stairs leading upwards that Largrim had spoken of.

He stopped for a moment to get his bearings. It wouldn't do to lose his way in the dark. Once he had left the immediate area of the Bridge, he was then heading away from the pool of light and back into the Stygian darkness. He moved very slowly and held the crystal lamp in front of him and then, after many hesitant steps, he finally found the bottom stair in the glow pooled by the lamp. He drew in a deep breath and tried to strengthen the knocking of his knees by standing straighter, then he stepped onto the bottom stair and held the lantern aloft...

....and immediately fell back in abject fear as a wild flapping and series of staccato shrieks told him that he had disturbed something up the top of the staircase.

For a moment he wildly waved his arms around him as he was surrounded by a cloud of creatures who seemed intent on getting entangled in his hair. They hit the skin of his face where it wasn't covered with his beard with sharp claws and for a moment he was in a blind panic that the 'dark things' were trying to get him. He fell to the ground and crouched in a ball trying to make himself as small a target as he could.

He was so intent on protecting his head and his body from his assailants that it took a while for him to realise that they were no longer fluttering around his head. He ventured a cautious look up out of one eye through his fingers which were currently covering his face and saw that there was nothing there now apart from one bat that he had frantically flung away with some force and which now lay dazed on the ground a couple of feet away.

Arral felt sick with relief. Bats...that's all they had been. Plain and simple. He almost sobbed with sheer relief and stood up. In his wild gesticulating the crystal lamp had been flung to one side and his heart stopped. What if it was broken? He bent down and picked it up. The lamp's small base was made of beaten metal which held the crystal itself. There was a cunning hidden mechanical switch in the base that released the crystal from the base and once released from the metal it would no longer glow. He didn't know about the mechanics of it of course, that the beaten metal held power and conducted it to the crystal, but he could see that the crystal had come loose as the lamp was flung to one side. He attached it firmly and the lamp began to glow again and Arral started to climb the steep stairs.

The first thing he came across sent the blood racing through his veins and his heart thundering again. Two very large and very ugly or deformed looking skeletons lay across the top step. They were locked together as if in an embrace, but the remains of the metal armour plating, the helmet that one skull still wore and the iron sword through his ribcage told another story, one of a fight to the death for both of them. He carefully stepped around them, trying not to disturb the remains.

Surely these creatures were from very long ago? _But if so, how is it they had not turned to dust by now? _He wondered. He then remembered his father telling him that the air in the city and the mines was so warm from the molten fires that raged beneath the mines that the atmosphere was dry and dusty. Things were easier preserved in such an atmosphere. Yes, that had to be it, although Arral was determined not to entertain any notion that these things had only died a few years ago, because that would suggest that they had descendants who might still be around.

So it was a decidedly nervous and wobbly Arral who finally reached the end of the passage and found himself in front of the aforesaid hole in the wall. First he put his arm through it holding the lamp to see what exactly was on the other side, but all he could see were rocks of all shapes and sizes. However he had come far too far to stop now and so he carefully dropped the lamp down on the other side, pushed his head and shoulders through the hole and shimmied through.

And it was the noise of that shimmying and the earlier disturbance of the bats that had alerted Seth to another presence as he walked up the ramp.

Arral had landed on the other side behind Troll-head rock and was picking himself up when a hand suddenly reached out, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and lifted him clear off the rock floor.

So now here he was. Sitting in a peculiar box like room that had wheels awaiting the 'experryments' and the beard shaving. He wasn't bound in any way, but when he had tried the door it was firmly locked and so were the windows and he could see a Big Folk guard outside through one of them. The terrifying creature who had leaked silver light from its eyes had gone, but he had left food on the table and a glass container that Arral had sniffed and discovered was nothing but water.

Still, he preferred to drink the now warm, stale water from his canteen on his belt while he considered his doom. For all he knew the creature with the silver eyes was trying to poison him with Jerms. And the Elves were obviously allied with him, so _they _couldn't be trusted no matter how beautiful they were.

And to add insult to injury, his lovely crystal lamp had been left behind on the rocky floor just beneath the hole in the wall where he had dropped it.

Arral sighed deeply and climbed back onto the very large bunk, his legs did not reach the floor and he swung them back and forth as he waited.

What a _pickle _he was in and what was he to do about it?

ooOoo


	40. Of Kings and Long Lost Relatives

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the slight delay in posting another chapter. My son has indeed now been made redundant from his job and he is quite upset, so I went over to stay with them for a couple of days. Thank you ever so much for all the reviews.

" Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for awhile and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same. "

___**- **____**Random Anonymous Quote**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 40 – Kings and Long Lost Relatives**

**Outside of Moria**

The light was beginning to fade in a rosy glow behind the mountains as Hal and Celebrimbor drove up into what had, many many millennia before, been the road up to the High Pass across Caradhras.

The former Lord of Eregion craned his neck as the four wheel drive vehicle with the horses inside the metal casing Hal called an 'engine' effortlessly ate up the miles. Far below them the steep mountainside dropped to the still green valleys below despite the onset of Autumn and already he knew that they were very high up. Occasional patches of snow gave way after a couple of miles to a light frosting of snow on the sides of the road. It clung to the rocks and low fencing placed on the side of the wide road and the wind had snow blasted the rock wall of the mountain leaving a glittering thin veneer of snow crystals covering everything.

The air outside was chilly and getting colder, Celebrimbor could sense the drop in temperature even in the vehicle with the heating blasting out of the vents. He was constantly amazed by the way modern humans travelled in their metal carriages without horses. Outside a blizzard could rage, but inside they would be safe and warm and moving at such speed. He marvelled at the speed. In his day you travelled to the West Gates of Moria on horseback or on foot through all kinds of weather and finally, after days of hard riding, perhaps with two or three rest periods, reached the Dwarven halls often wet through or with snow coating the hood of the cloak and clinging to the folds of the garment. The halls of the Dwarves in those days had been welcoming. Once through the guardrooms and into the inner halls, the wide stone fireplaces would have roaring fires. Large polished stone tables groaned with provender of all kinds and the air would be humming with the boisterous conversations and hearty belly laughter of the Dwarves.

Oh how he had _loved_ it. They gave him the kind of welcome that was often lacking when he visited any of the Elven realms. The memory of the Eldar was fabled, they forgot nothing and were not slow to visit the sins of the grandfather or even the father on the child. He had not felt welcome there, only the sharp eyes watching him, constantly judging him. Only in Ereinion Gil-galad's private chambers, where all court pretense and diplomacy were laid down, had he felt part of his own race. Gil-galad had always been unfailingly kind and welcoming. His habit of throwing his priceless mithril circlet on to the hook on the wall meant for his cloak after returning from sitting in Council had been one of the funniest things Celebrimbor had ever seen. His aim had been unerring every single time.

Even funnier had been the sight of Elrond sighing deeply, and going to remove the offending article to place it carefully in the black silk lined polished wooden case it normally lived in.

Ereinion Gil-galad was a very tall, well-built with broad, powerful shoulders narrowing to slim hips and long muscular legs, larger than life Elf, totally different from the average Eldar who were tall, but slender, like whipcord and with an ethereal beauty. Gil-galad's hair was a rich dark brown and it was lustrous and thick. It hung in a shining mass almost to his waist and he kept it neat by two braids looped back behind his ears and clasped at the back with a simple leaf-shaped mithril hair clasp while the rest of the hair tumbled haphazardly down his back. More than one of the court ladies had sighed just for the desire to run their hands through his hair. His grey eyes twinkled with a razor sharp intelligence and his smile was broad and merry. His mind was sharp, like a steel trap though, there was no pulling the wool over _his _eyes. Celebrimbor had heard it said once by a tall pale blond Sinda courtier that they certainly must have broken the mold when Ereinion Gil-galad had been born for there was no-one else like him.

Gil-galad's Herald, Master Elrond, was almost the exact opposite of his King in nature... a much quieter, more self-effacing personality. Tall, but nowhere near the height of his King and very slender; grey eyed, and _also_ highly intelligent. His hair was also dark, darker than the King's, yet not quite black, but it was not as lustrous and thick as Gil-galad's, he wore it in a similar style, but that was where any similarity between them ended. He smiled less often than his King, but the smile when it came was well worth the wait. It was like the stars bursting out all at the same time. Wisdom sat deep within the Halfelven, possibly borne from the traumas of his childhood and his illustrious heritage. The young one had seen much in his short life...a life that was not so short now. It would be interesting to see the changes wrought in an older Elrond. He had eventually married the daughter of Celeborn and Galadriel, the silver haired little maiden Celebrimbor had often seen playing around the fountains of Ost-in-Edhil. He had met both her and their sons in Aman once he had been reborn.

It had been good to see Gil-galad again, although the reborn scion of Kings had been just a pale shadow of his former self. Rebirth did that to you. It gave you the outward shell while the insides were just a mass of confusion and jumbled thoughts. Even dressing oneself had to be re-learned and to be fumbling with ties and buckles like a toddler could be frustrating. The Maiar of Lord Irmo were kindness personified and so patient but it did not make the reborn feel any more comfortable in their own skin. Many reborn had rebelled against the whole experience. Some had become surly and mutinous, some had become withdrawn and silent.

In Gil-galad's case he had woken up one day in the gardens of Lorien which was where the reborn were sent when it was their time to rejoin the living and apparently immediately demanded to see Elrond. On being told by Lord Irmo that Elrond Peredhil was back in the Middle-earth with his wife and one of his sons, he had then demanded to be sent back there. He had even escaped his Maiar attendants and was found halfway up the road to Tirion in search of a ship to take him back over the ocean. He had been taken to Celeborn and his cousin Galadriel who were currently spending the summer months with their grandson and the rest of the family at the home of Elrond and Celebrian so that they could look after him which they did willingly.

When Celebrimbor had been requested by Lord Irmo to go and meet with Ereinion and bring him back to the Valar's Halls for a meeting with Lord Manwe, he had been pleased to do it. He had yet to visit Elrond and his family after rebirth and had instead remained with his Grandmother's family. He had arrived from his Great grandfather Mahtan's house on horseback at the coast where Elrond's home was located and found a disconsolate Ereinion sitting by the side of the road mutinously hacking at an innocent bramble with a stick. His Maiar guards could not be seen, but there was no doubt at all that they were there, quietly ensuring that the former High King did nothing to harm himself and also ensuring that he didn't try to stow away on a boat. He had looked up as Celebrimbor dismounted and handed his horse to the stablemaster who had seen his approach, shading his eyes from the light, but his face had lit up like Anor when he saw who it was.

And that had been his reunion with the former High King of the Noldor, he who, along with Elendil, had struck the person of Sauron himself and been burned to crisp for his pains. They had remained in each other's company for a many a day, until the worst of the newly reborn feeling wore off and the real Ereinion began to shine through after many long walks and talks by the sea and more than a few light sparring matches with both Celebrimbor and Elrond's son Elrohir. It would take longer of course for him to come to his full self, but the meeting with Lord Manwe where they had been informed that they would come to Middle-earth, Celebrimbor to go to the recently unearthed Moria and Ereinion was to stay with Lord Eönwë and be his Herald, had somehow given Ereinion a new found maturity. By the time they actually reached the shores of the Middle-earth once again, he was almost back to the way he had always been, although a shadow still lay at the back of his grey eyes.

It had been hard to take leave of him to come over here, but it had to be done and he had to believe that the Herald and his sweet wife Kim, Erestor and the others would look after Ereinion. Celebrimbor sighed deeply causing Hal to glance quickly over at him.

"Everything okay?"

The Elf beside him smiled. "Everything is.....okay." He had only just learned this strange word while travelling with the American and it still felt odd on his lips.

Twenty minutes later Hal parked the vehicle on the side of the road into the tunnel where the other cars were parked. As they got out of the car, the very familiar figure of Elrond could be seen walking towards them, accompanied by two other Elves, both golden-haired, one slightly familiar to Celebrimbor and the other well known to him. In turn they were also accompanied by a tall handsome man with long golden brown hair who could have _easily_ passed for Eönwë's brother.

Hal had turned back to the car and was rummaging around in the side pocket for his cigarettes and lighter so neither Elrond nor the others immediately saw his face. Instead Elrond approached Celebrimbor with open arms and they embraced, then he introduced Thranduil who placed his hand over his heart and inclined his head with a warm smile on his lips. Glorfindel unashamedly caught the grandson of Feanor in a bear-hug and there were tears in his blue eyes. Of course they knew each other well, both from Valinor when Celebrimbor had been a small child and also from the days of the War of Wrath and its aftermath in Middle-earth.

Elrond's smile was beaming from ear to ear and tears also sparkled in his eyes. "It is so good to see you looking so well and healed my friend."

The other Elf laughed and took the hands offered to him. "And I never thought to see _you_ this side of the Sundering Seas. How strangely the fates of all of us are entwined. But come, you must meet my companion. He is called an 'American' from the continent across the sea. He speaks _very _strangely, can be morose and lectures me much, but he is a fine fellow and member of the Edain for all that."

At that Hal stood up and grinned at the newcomers. He wasn't quite prepared for the colour to drain out of the face of the dark-haired Elf, nor the swift in-drawn breath of the more slender golden-haired Elf. The tall broad shouldered golden-haired elf and the other man stood back and said nothing. Then the dark-haired Elf who was being introduced by an oblivious Celebrimbor as Master Elrond, took a step forward, shock, fear and hope warring with each other in his fair face.

"Halbarad?"

ooOoo

Hal took a step back in surprise. Nobody had called him Halbarad since he was a small child and then only his grandmother when she wanted to call him to brook on something he had done. He was immediately taken back to the parlour she loved to sit in and he usually liked to sit in there as well since there were so many fascinating things in it. Swords crossed on the walls, even a large shield propped in the corner which had a velvet fringed shawl draped over it. There were glass fronted cupboards with jewellery, extremely ancient looking leather bound books and other fascinating 'nic-nacs' as Grandma had called them. Sometimes she had taken one of the books out of the glass case and read him stories from it...wonderful stories about beautiful maidens, brave knights, dragons and dark lords, but that was a rare happening.

He had once asked his grandfather about the stuff in the parlour but had been told that they were very old things passed down through the generations of the family on his grandmother's side and that he should ask her about them.

Of course he _had _asked and been told that _one_ day he would learn the story of his heritage, only grandmother had sadly died before she could tell him and his mother had airily dismissed the 'tat' that the old lady had collected and had wanted to sell all the stuff except that the attorney dealing with the old lady's estate, his grandfather had died some two years earlier than his wife, had pointed out to her that the will clearly stated that all of the stuff from the parlour was to be the inheritance of her only grandson, Halbarad Kenwood, once he came of age.

"Stuff and nonsense." His forthright mother had declared, eyes bright with anger. "What sort of inheritance is that to leave a child? Some of the things are extremely old, they should be valued and then sold. The proceeds can go into his college fund. He'll still get the benefit from them. It's quite clear that my mother was not in her right mind towards the end. Who on earth in their right mind leaves a bunch of swords, some old books and a shield to a young boy?"

She had been even more angry when the attorney had repeated the bequest and the codicil which stated that the items must not be sold, they were to pass down to Halbarad in their entirety. Hal had been a bit bemused by the bequest, but he had loved and respected his grandmother so when he had reached the age of majority, he had the items shipped into a secure lock-up until he could get around to cataloging it all, much to his mother's annoyance. Then of course he had joined the military, gone to Vietnam. One thing had led to another and his grandmother's bequest slipped to the back of his mind.

Until now....

Even as Elrond had stepped forward with that shocked look on his fair features, the remembrance of those items in the bequest flooded Hal's mind as if they had been waiting for this exact moment. He staggered backwards and slid down the car as his legs failed him and memories flashed in front of him. A horrified Elrond reached out for him, but Thranduil and Seth had also moved forwards and got to him first. Celebrimbor and Glorfindel had frozen with shock.

"Let's get him out of the cold." Thranduil said as he lifted the man up into his arms.

Seth beckoned to them. "My trailer is nearest, we can take him in there." He turned to Elrond. "Have you any idea what might be happening to him? You obviously struck some kind of deep memory when you called him Halbarad."

Elrond's face was suffused with distress. He shook his head. "I do not know. I was just so taken aback to see his face, I know deep inside that this cannot be the Halbarad that I knew so long ago, but I could not help myself. He is exactly like him."

They got Hal into the trailer along with the now very confused Celebrimbor and laid him on the bunk. Thranduil stared around him with interest since nobody had ever been in the Grigori's trailer before. Unlike the others he had a trailer to himself and it was neat...almost obsessively so. A laptop stood on the desk and also a radio transmitter, presumably in case the Internet or whatever else he used to communicate with his headquarters went down. His clothes were hanging in neat rows in the wardrobe and the only untidy or personal items in the whole trailer were a very ancient looking book lying open on the table beside the bed and a photograph of a very beautiful dark-haired man smiling out at the camera.

Hal lay as one senseless on Seth's bunk. His eyes were open but whatever he was seeing it wasn't his current surroundings. Seth sat down beside him and felt his pulse which was racing. He laid a hand against the American's cheek and then gently cupped it in one strong hand and closed his eyes for a few moments. Everyone else had lapsed into silence.

"It's not a fever." He said eventually. "Somehow memories that have lain deep in his consciousness have been awoken. It is unfortunate that the encounter should have awoken them all at once, I believe it should have been a slower and more gentle remembrance."

"Should we take him to a hospital perhaps?" Thranduil ventured cautiously. "Or Elrond is a healer, perhaps he can call him back to the light, or even Glorfindel may be able to."

Seth shook his head. "They cannot help him." He smiled at Glorfindel. "Would you fetch Xavier for me please? I believe between he and I, we can help to channel the memories, many of which are not his own, so that they slow down a little. He is being overwhelmed and his mind has no way of coping."

Hal could hear them talking, but not what they were saying. Their conversation was just like a buzzing coming from the outside. Inside his head he was having conversations with people, fighting hideous creatures and the one face that kept recurring over and over was the face of a man who looked very much like young Jim Moore would probably look in a few more years. Dark, wavy shoulder length hair shot through with fine silver and tangled as though he hadn't combed it for a good many days, or perhaps even weeks. His face was both stern and compassionate, immensely sad and yet merry and his eyes were the same friendly grey as Jim's, the only difference being the wisdom that could be perceived in the depths of those eyes. Jim had yet to earn the years and the wisdom.

Among the memories of this person who looked so much like Jim, were interlaced memories of two tall dark haired, fair faced Elves, so alike that they could not be told apart and yet another dark haired Elf who they both greatly resembled, all were standing in the courtyard in front of the most incredible looking house he had ever seen. The doors stood open and even in this world of remembering Hal could feel the warmth and the welcome that flooded out from them.

"Imladris." He whispered and Elrond stepped closer. Seth's hand had remained cupped around Hal's cheek and his eyes were closed again as though he was concentrating on something he could hear and nobody else could.

The soft sound of the door opening heralded Radagast's arrival. He stepped into the trailer followed by Glorfindel who then stood in front of the door ready to answer if anyone happened to knock on it.

Radagast seemed to need no instruction, he immediately sat on the side of the bed near Hal's head and placed his hand over Seth's and then also closed his eyes. Nothing seemed to happen at first, other than the release of a most beautiful scent.

"Roses." Elrond whispered. "I remember the scent well, the white rose bush in Celebrian's garden, it was her favourite."

Thranduil looked surprised. "I smell the white lilacs that Lindomiel loved so well. I would place a sprig of them at the spot where her life was so cruelly taken."

"And I smell the Niphredil that grows so abundantly in the forests of Aman." Celebrimbor said quietly. "My mother loves that smell and I associate it with her, but also with Yavanna who loves all fruits and growing things in Arda."

"I also smell Niphredil." Glorfindel agreed. "A memory from the Blessed Isle I deem. I sense the Lady Yavanna's presence in this room and also that of Lady Este."

Then Hal gasped and sat upright. The hands of the Maia and the Grigori fell away from his face.

"Oh god..." He whispered and there was pain in his eyes. "I died...I _felt _myself die. I saw those... _awful_ _things_...kill me." His eyes were open but still strangely blank as the painful and intense memories continued to march across his mind, even as he turned to look at the people around him. Seth put his hand back on his cheek and Radagast followed suit. Gradually his eyes closed, his mouth went slack and he fell backwards onto the bunk.

At first Elrond thought he was dead and started forward with the intention of looking for a pulse, but was beaten to it by Seth who lifted his eyelids and checked his pulse. Radagast stood up and Seth pulled a soft travel rug over Hal and tucked it in under his chin.

Radagast put a restraining hand on Elrond's arm and smiled at him. "He's alive Elrond, be assured of that. He is breathing, see as his chest rises and falls? It is just that the strength of all those memories returning, including that of the death of his ancestor were just too much for him all coming at once like that. Seth and I have put him into a healing sleep. He should awake in a few hours, feeling tired and hungry and with many questions...questions that you more than anyone will be able to answer."

Seth stood up. "I think perhaps we will let him sleep now. Perhaps you could stay with him Xavier? I need Thranduil and the others with me to talk to our little Dwarven friend."

Radagast nodded. "I would be glad to."

As they left the trailer Celebrimbor grasped Seth's arm. "Will he be all right?" His expression was pleading. "He is my friend."

Seth gave him a beautiful smile. "Your affection for him, considering your short acquaintance does you credit child. He will be fine. I was a little afraid of this, but at least now I know to warn Eönwë that the same situation may occur when Master Elrond here and the young man Jim Moore finally meet up."

"Are you trying to tell me that there are more of them?" Elrond asked.

"As your lady wife will no doubt attest when you are next in contact with her." Seth replied smoothly. "She should recognise one of the line of Elessar and Arwen Undomiel without too much trouble. Let's hope that she does not provoke the same sort of reaction, although I have no doubt that Eönwë will be able to deal with that."

Elrond stopped dead in his tracks. "One of their line still exists? My Arwen and Estel?" His face was wreathed in smiles and Glorfindel was grinning like a loon as Seth nodded confirmation. "And Halbarad?"

Seth's mouth quirked with laughter. "Mr Hal Kenwood is, as you may have gathered, a descendant of the original Halbarad. They are both of the line of the Dunedain, greatly diluted of course for the main part, but in them the blood of Numenor still runs very strongly. It is just that their family lines were divided and ended up on different continents. Although it would seem from what I could tell of Hal's thoughts that his family at least carried on many old Dunedain traditions and and kept many of the old treasures as valuables."

Thranduil clapped a hand on Elrond's shoulder. "I cannot tell you how delighted I am that the bloodlines of your brother have survived. I knew that some had come through the Ice Age, but had assumed that none would still remember who and what they were. I did track down one section of the Telcontar family but lost track of them in Dublin, Ireland. The only records I could locate were of them sailing on the Lusitania during World War One, I could find no trace of them among the survivors who numbered in the several hundreds. (1) However it now seems that they did indeed survive and eventually ended up in America."

"As am I." Celebrimbor said softly. "I remember Elros well. I was there when the ships headed by Lord Eönwë's flagship headed out of the harbour for their new home. I can only rejoice with you."

Elrond nodded his thanks. "I must try to speak with Celebrian and let her know, although by the sound of it, she will also have a few things to tell me. Perhaps if you could let me use that new-fangled modern device of yours Thranduil?"

"The mobile phone?" Thranduil grinned at him. "Of course, but we'll need to go and stand in the road to get a signal."

They headed off in the direction of the parked cars again and Seth turned to Celebrimbor. "In all the fuss I haven't welcomed you to the dig site. Consider yourself welcomed. It's just as well that you're here so early, since we have a Dwarf we would like you to help us question."

Celebrimbor's mouth dropped open. "A Dwarf? What kind of Dwarf?"

"Oh you know. The average sort of Dwarf, short, stout, bright red beard, swears in Khuzdul a lot." Glorfindel chuckled. "We caught him spying on us just past the First Hall of Moria as you head towards the First Deep past the chasm near the bridge."

"Durin's Bridge?" Celebrimbor asked in a tone laced with disbelief.

"That's the one." Glorfindel nodded. "We think...no...we _know_ that he wasn't alone as well. We got to the other side of the bridge near the First Deep, but we didn't go into the Second Hall. We found evidence of a recent campsite near the doors that Elrond believes leads into the Chamber of Records and the tomb of Balin. We decided not to go further until you and your friend Hal arrived."

"Large bronze doors?" Celebrimbor queried.

Seth nodded. "Yes and they were closed. Is Elrond correct?"

"That way does lead to the Chamber of Records." Celebrimbor replied. "But there is also a branch off into a long corridor that leads to what was the Twenty First Hall. The doors were never closed except in times of strife or possible attacks."

Glorfindel pondered for a moment. "Then it would seem that someone did indeed pull them shut. If the Ringbearer's party came down that way, they would have come through a door at the other end of the Chamber and then down through the doors into the First Deep. Estel never mentioned that the doors were closed to them. Mithrandir closed the door of the actual Chamber of Records after him and tried to put a closing spell on it which the Balrog sensed and counter-spelled, they then flew down the corridor into the eastern end of the Second Hall where Durin's Bridge spanned the chasm, they chose to cross the bridge rather than go around."

They had finally reached the trailer where the Dwarf, Arral, was being held. Seth nodded to the guard who took out the keys to unlock the trailer door.

"I imagine that either they didn't realise that they could go around, or perhaps, given that Moria was filled with orc and goblin-kind, they knew would have been caught in a trap. Remember that the ramp led up to a large plateau area and there was a disused camp up there." Seth reminded him. "At any rate, perhaps we will now be able to get some answers to our questions from our young Dwarf friend."

He opened the door and was nearly bowled over by a little red-haired whirlwind. Arral had decided that the moment the door opened he would make a break for it, and indeed he was fast, but not quite fast enough. He found himself being held very firmly by a dark-haired Elf, a different one from the other he had seen, whose grey eyes twinkled at him. He let loose a barrage of Khuzdul oaths which he was convinced none of them would understand, but had the wind taken right out of his sails when the same Elf replied in his own language.

"Greetings Master Dwarf." Celebrimbor said quietly in Khuzdul. "There is no need to be afraid, we will not hurt you. We merely wish to ask you some questions."

Arral's face was a picture of comical astonishment, Seth raised one eyebrow and looked over at Glorfindel who laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "What can I say? I did tell you my Khuzdul was fairly limited."

Seth gestured for them to enter the trailer again. "Shall we go back into the trailer? I think perhaps this conversation would be better held in private."

ooOoo

(1) **RMS **_**Lusitania**_ was an ocean liner owned by the Cunard Line. She was torpedoed by a German U Boat, U20, on 7 May 1915 and sank in 18 minutes, eight miles (15km) off the Old Head of Kinsale, Ireland, killing 1,198 of the 1,959 people aboard. The sinking turned public opinion in many countries against Germany, and was instrumental in bringing the United States into World War One. It is considered the second most famous civilian passenger liner disaster, after the sinking of the RMS Titanic.

The sinking of the _Lusitania_ caused great controversy, which persists to this day. In the aftermath of the sinking, the German government tried to justify it by claiming in an official statement that she had been armed with guns, and had "large quantities of war material" in her cargo. They also stated that since she was classed as an auxiliary cruiser, Germany had had a right to destroy her regardless of any passengers aboard, and that the warnings issued by the German Embassy before her sailing plus the 18 February note declaring the existence of "war zones", relieved Germany of any responsibility for the deaths of American citizens aboard. While it was true that the _Lusitania_ had been fitted with gun mounts as part of government loan requirements during her construction, to enable rapid conversion into an Armed Merchant Cruiser (AMC) in the event of war, the guns themselves were never fitted. However, she was still listed officially as an AMC. Her cargo had included an estimated 4,200,000 rounds of rifle cartridges, 1,250 empty shell cases, and 18 cases of non-explosive fuses, all of which were listed in her manifest, but the cartridges were not officially classed as ammunition by the Cunard Line. Various theories have been put forward over the years that she had also carried undeclared high explosives that were detonated by the torpedo and helped to sink her, but this has never been proven.


	41. Interview with a Vampire

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **I am tired and my brain hurts. January must be one of the longest and worst months of the year. It's a tired sort of month, neither one thing nor the other. People are usually grumpy after the holiday cheer of December and it's the month where pay day seems to take years to arrive, or is it just that we see our bank statements and credit card statements and realise just how much we actually spent over Christmas? Still the days here in the UK are beginning to lengthen and the snow, at least here where I am, has gone. My garden keeps telling me that I should be out there clearing up the mess after the snow, not sitting here writing yet another chapter of the story, but it's cold out there, so here I am.

"**Giles:** I thought vampires were supposed to eat blood.  
**Spike:** Yeah, well, sometimes I like to crumble up the Weetabix in the blood. Give it a little texture.  
**Giles:** Since the picture you just painted means I will never touch food of any kind again, you'll just have to pick it up yourself.  
**Spike:** Sissy. "

___**- **____**Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV series)**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 41 – Interview with a Vampire**

**Residence of Brigadier Gary Matthews, Hampshire, England**

Celebrian watched from the window as Jim Moore and Finrod alighted from Jim's car. She had watched him fairly closely since Eönwë had told her whose descendant he was and when they had been introduced it had been a bit of a shock to look into features that bore more than a passing resemblance to her long dead daughter.

From the many drawings and pictures, both formal and informal, that Elrond and the twins had brought over with them, she could also see the one that her husband still called Estel in his bearing and manner. He had a ready smile and a strange way of cocking his head on one side that Erestor assured her was typical of the young Aragorn at about the same age. The colouring was also typical of the Numenorean stock, that dark hair and those deep set grey-blue eyes, but there was also that aspect of him that belonged to neither her daughter Arwen or by all accounts, Aragorn. Jim Moore was a joker with a sense of humour that was always ready to burst out. Granted, it was clear he did not have the cares his ancestor carried, but there was a sense of mischief in him that was very reminiscent of her own sons when they were much younger.

He and Uncle Finrod made a good foil for each other, they were both irrepressible characters, but while Jim's came from carefree youth, Finrod's came from his own lightness of being.

She laughed softly as Allie, currently returning from Playgroup with Nerdanel, broke away from the elleth's restraining hand and flung herself at man and elf. They walked up the driveway towards the house Jim on one side of Allie and Finrod on the other and they swung the child between them as a mildly exasperated, but resigned Nerdanel followed them with a smile hovering around her mouth.

"I can see Elros in him." Ereinion's voice suddenly sounded quite close to her ear and she jumped a little because she hadn't heard him come up behind her.

"You made me jump." She scolded him and slapped him sharply on his arm.

Ereinion Gil-galad scrutinised her for a moment and then chuckled. "And here was I thinking that Elves had good hearing."

She sighed. "I was remembering..."

He shot her a quizzical look. "So it would seem. Remembering your daughter?"

For a moment tears trembled on the end of her lashes. She nodded slowly. "Yes. I did not know Aragorn, or Elessar as he was called, and from the pictures I can see a likeness to that young man, but there is something about his features that much more strongly recalls Arwen to me. I cannot explain it. Yet I can also see Elladan and Elrohir in him which is strange. I did not know Elros at all, Elrond tells me that although they were twins, they were not similar in nature, which in truth seems obvious considering the different choice they each made."

Ereinion bent over her shoulder and watched as Jim gestured wildly to Finrod as he was talking and the tall blond Elf doubled over with laughter. Nerdanel also giggled at whatever Jim was saying and Allie was dancing around them crowing with laughter and talking in that language she always seemed to use when she was excited, the language only her father could actually understand.

"I cannot see why you would be surprised to see Arwen's brothers in her descendant. They are, after all, of the same bloodlines." Ereinion remarked. "That child is speaking in Valarin, did you realise that?"

Celebrian started in surprise. "The language of the Valar and the Maiar? Of _course_, I _knew_ I had heard it before. I do not know why I am so surprised, she is her father's daughter after all, it makes sense that he has taught her his language or perhaps being half Maia she knew it from birth." She turned to him with a smile. "And how have you settled in? The missives that were sent from my Naneth and Adar said you had been having some problem settling back into your life in the Blessed Realm."

Ereinion sucked in his bottom lip thoughtfully. "I am fine now. I felt better the moment I set foot in Arda. I do not like Valinor, I do not belong there. I felt displaced."

Celebrian twinkled at him. "So I hear. Lord Irmo was at his wit's end to know what to do with you, so Naneth said in her letter. You had half of the Maiar out looking for you. Did you really manage to make it as far as Aqualondë on foot and without any food or water? "

Ereinion's rich laughter rang out. "Oh they are exaggerating to be sure. I was halfway between Tirion and the coast, not too far from your home when the Maiar overtook me." He had the grace to look a little ashamed. "I think they were at a loss to know what to do with me because I kicked up such a fuss...one worthy of an elfling or so Lord Irmo scolded me later. Celeborn gallantly came to rescue me, said that I could stay with them. I think that Lord Irmo was vastly relieved to see the back of me, although he left Maiar to guard me. Your lady mother and father were most kind to me and I am very grateful to them."

"That sounds very much like Adar. Why did you not settle in Valinor?" She asked curiously.

She had noticed the same restlessness in Elladan that was in abundance in Ereinion, a restlessness that had diminished in Elrohir once he met his wife and settled down. She had hoped against hope that Elladan would also meet someone, but in spite of the beauties of the surrounding area in Eldamar, not to mention a fair few in Valmar, Tirion and Aqualondë, openly showing interest, her eldest twin hardly seemed to notice them. Instead he had hunted with his Uncles and also with Lord Orome and left the ladies to languish after him, their attentions spurned and unrequited.

Even as she spoke, the subject of her thoughts pulled up in Kim's small car. Elladan had been out at the gym down in the Garrison for a fencing work out as he called his regular sparring sessions with the Herald and his arrival meant that Eönwë would not be far behind him. His long hair was damp and as he dragged his long sports bag out of the boot of the car, he was suddenly attacked from behind and tackled down to the ground by Allie who jumped at him. He fell back on the lawn, winded, as the small girl sat on his chest and Bob the dog bounded over and started licking him effusively.

Both Celebrian and Ereinion burst out laughing as Elladan good-naturedly allowed himself to be pummeled by Allie and licked to death by the dog. He was rescued from his torture by Jim who plucked Allie off him and threw her around while Finrod picked up Bob's slimy well-chewed tennis ball and threw it for him to chase after it.

"Elladan would make a good father." Ereinion said softly. "I am not sure why I could not settle. I think perhaps because it is not my home. I was born here in Middle-earth. I did not see the light of the Two Trees and I chose to remain after Beleriand sank under the waves, not just because I felt a responsibility to those Elves who would not sail after the War of Wrath, but also because I felt a responsibility to Middle-earth itself. I left many things undone when I died on the slopes of Orodruin and I hope to put that right now in the service of Lord Eönwë. I belong here Celebrian. Valinor is beautiful to be sure and peaceful, but it feels wrong to sit in that peace knowing that here in the place of my birth, not all is well. Why should the people of Middle-earth not also have peace? Such things should not be denied them."

Celebrian nodded soberly. "I think my Adar would definitely agree with you and also Lord Thranduil. He never left you know. Stayed here all this time, and Maglor of course, although I think he would have sailed West if he could have."

She moved away from the window and walked into the small sitting room which lay opposite the main living room. It was a room entirely taken over by the female household members and jokingly referred to by Jim and Chief as the Ladies Sewing Bee. Kim had nicknamed it the Hot Gossip room and that was much more accurate really since it was the place that the ladies of the household gathered together to get away from the men and discuss the things that men would be shocked at if they realised the women actually knew about them. Ereinion followed her into the small cosy room and looked around him in interest.

"I think it is missing a 'No Males Allowed' notice on the door." He said perceptively, dark eyebrows raised in amusement. He sat on a comfy overstuffed armchair. " And you? Why did you and Elrond come back? I would have thought that your trials since my death and the Last Alliance would have been enough to keep you both rooted firmly in the peaceful earth of the Blessed Realm"

Celebrian picked up the summer dress she was sewing for Allie. She cut off a piece of silk thread with a small pair of scissors and frowned as she straightened out a seam before starting to sew. "It is so nice to make something for a little girl again. As for coming back here, you would think so would you not? But the truth is that both of us left a large part of ourselves here in the form of our daughter and although I had thought myself over it all, when Lord Eönwë asked if we wished to accompany him, we both jumped at the chance to see if we could perhaps locate any of her descendants."

The door opened and both Elves turned to find Maksim hovering on the threshold. He inclined his head to them both and made to hurriedly withdraw, but Celebrian held out her hand.

"Maksim, _do_ come and meet Ereinion." She turned to the former High King and smiled brightly at him. "Ereinion, this is Maksim, he rescued me from the Werewolves. Maksim is a descendant of Thuringwethil. Maksim, this is Ereinion Gil-galad, the last High King of the Noldor in Exile on Middle-earth in the Second Age."

Maksim held his hand out and steeled himself. He appreciated Celebrian's friendship greatly but he also realised that by and large he was merely tolerated by the others in the household, although the Brigadier's lady was always friendly and he could always rely on Celebrian's support. The others, however, were always reserved with him and he knew that both Haldir and Elladan in particular watched with keen suspicion in their eyes when he and Celebrian were together. He generally kept to his room or talked with Eönwë, so he had not actually met the newcomer yet.

Ereinion gave him a searching look from head to foot, finishing up by looking straight into Maksim's eyes with that cool, grey appraising stare, then, to Maksim's surprise, he smiled and held out his hand. His grip was strong and reassuring.

"Thuringwethil eh? I must admit I did wonder what had happened to her and her kind. One minute Morgoth had vampires and werewolves, the next it was all Balrogs, orcs and dragons."

Maksim couldn't help but laugh at the matter of fact attitude of this tall sturdy Elf. "I think we stopped being flavour of the month with Morgoth quite early on Lord Ereinion; along with Draugluin and the rest of the werewolves. We didn't quite have the fire and the bluster or the sheer butt ugliness of the Balrogs, dragons and orcs. I think we looked far too human for his taste. although Morgoth and Sauron both found our particular respective expertise handy on certain occasions."

Ereinion let out a crack of laughter. "Butt ugliness...what a _splendid _description. I also like this 'flavour of the month' saying. I must remember that. Well, if Celebrian likes you, then I trust her judgment. I too am not a flavour of the month with the Valar, so we have something in common. Lord Ereinion is far too pompous a title by the way and my Kingship is long since past, you may call me Erin."

Maksim gave him a courtly bow. "Many thanks, my name is Maksimilian although I am usually called Maksim by everyone, but...when I was a young man, before...before I was turned, my family called me Max."

Celebrian perked up. "Shall I call you Max too?"

Ereinion's sharp eyes did not miss the softening of the vampire's expression when he looked at Elrond's wife, but he could see nothing inappropriate or licentious in it at all.

"You may call me whatever you wish dear lady." Maksim said quietly. Celebrian beamed at him.

The front door opened and the sound of many people clattering down the corridor talking to each other, Bob's sharp excited barks and Allie's piping voice over the top of it all suggested that everyone was now in the the house. Rasputin, who had been lying asleep on top of one of the bookshelves in the small sitting room suddenly stretched and lightly sprang down to the floor surprising everyone by his abrupt appearance. The cat stopped when it saw Maksim in the doorway, drew back and hissed. The vampire sighed and stood to one side allowing the cat to streak through the opening. Ereinion raised an eyebrow in query.

"Animals know, and especially cats who seem aligned to both sides, dark and light." Maksim said softly and with a tinge of sadness in his tone. "It's the lack of everything within us that makes a human human. A pulse, a heartbeat, blood circulating around the body, warmth, even sometimes the fact that we do not breathe as such. I used to think it was the lack of a soul, but...I am not so sure about that now. I think we do have a soul, but I think it becomes displaced during the turning." He bowed courteously to Ereinion and Celebrian. "It was very pleasant to meet you Lord...Erin. I think I just heard Lord Eönwë's car in the driveway and I need to speak to him."

Celebrian smiled at him. "Have you discovered anything of import?"

Maksim hesitated in the doorway. "I am not sure, but I have been in contact with an old friend from Budapest who has come to London recently. I get the impression that his trip here was more of a necessity than a whim and apparently he has been looking for me."

Eönwë closed his front door behind him, threw his cap onto the hat rack and followed the cap with his combat jacket. Allie squeaked like a mad thing when she saw her father and rushed up holding her hands up to him.

"Up now Daddy." She gave her father her most engaging smile. He laughed and swung her wriggling, giggling little form up into his arms and gave her a loud smacking kiss. Ereinion and Celebrian laughed and Maksim gave them a faint smile.

Eönwë greeted them. "Did I hear aright that your investigations today may have borne fruit Maksim?"

Maksim inclined his head. "Yes indeed."

"Well, just let me hand this giggling bundle to her mother and you can bring me up to speed in the study. You may as well come and listen too Ereinion since you are to be my second in command in all of this and of course you can also come if you wish Lady Celebrian."

Celebrian's silver laughter rippled around the room. "Why don't you give the little one to me and I'll take her into the family room instead. I am fairly sure that Kim and Erestor will have her meal ready for her and I should offer my help in preparing the evening meal since we also have two extras for dinner." She put her sewing down and took Allie from the Herald. "Come little one, it is time to eat, come and see what Mummy has for you."

They watched as Celebrian and Allie headed towards the rear of the house where the large family room and kitchen was situation. Eönwë stood for a moment watching them with a fond, but distracted expression on his face and Ereinion smiled.

"Fatherhood suits you Lord Eönwë." He said softly.

A sad smile hovered around the Herald's finely sculpted mouth. "I just wish she was growing up in a more peaceful environment. I wish I could show her the fields, the woods and the mountains of Valinor. I wish she could see the sun sparkling off the waves in the Bay of Eldamar and that she could run along the silver sands like an elfling, but I fear she will be long grown to womanhood before that happens."

"Perhaps it would comfort you to remember that the success of your task here may ensure that a great many_ other _children, not just your daughter, will have the freedom to do all of that in Middle-earth." Maksim said softly. "_Not_ just those in Valinor."

Ereinion and Eönwë glanced at each other in surprise and then at Maksim who had an unreadable expression on his face. The Herald's face brightened. "Yes indeed, and you are quite right to remind me of that fact. Now, come into the study, with a bit of luck Master Erestor will bring us some tea while we talk."

ooOoo

**A hotel in Bayswater Road, London**

The Westland Hotel was one of those edifices which in times gone by had been a large London house perhaps owned by some minor aristocracy, a member of the gentry or even a rich merchant. It wasn't in what in those days might have been considered to be the _most _select area situated as it was in the Bayswater Road, but was at least on the fringes of where the Haut Ton or high society in London had their homes.

The hotel itself was a pleasant looking place, not terribly upmarket but affordable, well appointed and clean...and that was one of the things that made Maksim pause on the threshold before entering. He glanced around him at the understated décor of the hotel and something began to tingle in his senses. This was just a little _too_ chintzy and pleasant for Cosmin who wasn't usually noted for his austerity. Quite the contrary in fact, Cosmin wouldn't have willingly been seen _dead _in a place like this, never mind undead.

And then there was the matter of the woman tailing him. She'd been clever, but not quite clever enough and at first he had been tempted to go over to the taxi that had followed his from Waterloo Station and knock on the window, but he had decided to see how far she would take the surveillance. American, he had guessed, probably part of the CIA team who sat in the Herald's road near his house masquerading as a maintenance crew for Southern Electricity. Heaven only knew how much the taxi fare would be by the time her surveillance finished, but he guessed that it was hardly her problem since the American government would ultimately pay the tab.

No...she was unimportant. What actually _was_ important was the fact that this obscure little hotel was not somewhere that his friend Cosmin would hole up in. And why a hotel? Unless of course this was just a meeting place. Most coven members nearly _always _headed for the large house in Sloane Square that looked like a private house, but was, in fact, a hotel run entirely by and for vampires. There a vampire had all the comforts of home and anonymity. No vampire who valued his security would trust himself in a hotel run by humans and no vampire who was not intent on doing something deadly would willingly surround himself with humans.

This was beginning to smell. Maksim pursed his lips. It had all the hallmarks of a setup. _Whatever_ Cosmin wanted, he apparently wanted Maksim to feel vulnerable and also in a situation where he knew that Maksim would not make a fuss and risk being uncovered as a vampire, and where better than a neutral human hotel in a fairly central tourist area crawling with visitors to London from all over the world?

He stepped into the hotel lobby and scanned the area around him quickly and efficiently. The hotel reception was in front of him. He could go up and check whether a Cosmin Stanescu was registered as a guest or he could just head into the bar confidently as though he was a guest of the hotel himself. There was also a lounge on his right, but a quick glance into the lounge area showed that, apart from a young couple, obviously American tourists by their dress and their speech, the room was otherwise empty.

The bar then, and if there was no sign of Cosmin in there he would have no choice but to ask the hotel receptionist and see if he could get a room number. The enhanced vampire senses were now all but screaming at him to leave, but as he looked around at the guests and staff milling around, he could see no apparent threat and if Cosmin _was_ in some sort of trouble, which it appeared he may be, then Maksim felt he should still make contact, even if all he did was get some information out of him.

Unfortunately he who hesitates is usually lost and it was Maksim's slight hesitation that drew the attention of the hotel porter.

"Can I be of any assistance sir?" The man asked smoothly and pleasantly. "Are you a guest at the Westland?"

Maksim cursed inwardly. Now he could either brazenly pretend he was a guest or he could pretend he was looking for a hotel room or say he was here to meet someone, but either way, this man would expect him to go to the reception desk at some point which he preferred not to do except as a last resort. He decided on the meeting someone angle.

"I am here to meet a friend from Romania." He said politely. "But I couldn't see him in the lounge."

"Then may I suggest that your friend may be in the bar sir?" The porter's tone was also ultra polite and he gestured to the entrance to the bar. "Might one ask the name of your friend? Perhaps I can inquire for you at the Reception Desk. The gentleman may not have come down from his room yet and the receptionist can place a call for you to let him know you are here."

Maksim disliked being herded into a situation where he wasn't in control and if there was anything to be wary of here, then he needed to ascertain what it was. Humans were malleable and suggestible and it wouldn't have taken much for Herumor to infiltrate even such a place as this for his own ends.

He decided to risk using the vampire sense that generally allowed them to cloud the thinking of their prey in order to make them willing. It was risky to use it here in a public place with humans around and also if there was anything else here, it would probably be able to sense him immediately and any hope of keeping a low profile would be gone but he had no choice. He stared at the porter until he saw the familiar clouding of the man's eyes which told him that he was pliable and open to suggestion, but instead of the usual act of feeding that would normally result from this, instead he gently probed the man's mind...

...And found nothing untoward there. If there _was_ anything dangerous or sinister waiting for him in this hotel, _this_ man was unaware of it.

Maksim sighed softly with relief and released his mental hold over the human after planting the suggestion that the man had never seen Maksim before, let alone talked with him. The man blinked and looked confused, then his eyes cleared and he found himself with the strangest sensation of having been asleep on his feet.

He focused on Maksim's dark saturnine features and said again. "Can I help you sir?"

Maksim smiled. "No, thank you, I am here to meet a friend in the bar."

The porter's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed convulsively and then he cleared his throat and spoke in a slightly robotic tone. "Of course sir, the bar is just to your left."

Maksim nodded to him. "Thank you."

As he headed into the bar he could feel the porter's eyes still on him, but it was more from a dazed confusion than anything sinister.

There were quite a few people in the hotel bar. With the preternatural speed of his kind he scanned the room swiftly, assessing everyone who was present.

An older woman and a younger man at the bar were drinking and appeared to be friendly, but Maksim's vampire hearing detected from their conversation that she was an older woman on an assignation with a younger man. Escort with her client possibly, he assumed, until a brief snatch of their conversation, which no normal human would have heard but which was plain to his enhanced hearing, told him that it was the young _man_ who was the escort and the woman who was the customer. Maksim's nostrils wrinkled as he smelled the man's aftershave mingling with the invisible pheromones released by the woman's growing arousal. No prizes for knowing where _those _two were headed at any rate. He smiled grimly to himself and then mentally shrugged. Who was he to deny _anyone_ a moment's pleasure, however fleeting or expensive, in this rapidly darkening world?

Next to them sat a man on his own. He spoke to no one and instead stared fixedly straight across the bar and his drink, whiskey on the rocks by the smell of it, stood half drunk and forgotten on the polished bar in front of him. He was alone, possibly a businessman waiting to go to a meeting or just someone seeking oblivion in the bottom of a glass. Maksim dismissed both him and the couple; their presence held no danger.

A burst of laughter from one corner of the bar drew his gaze. A group of about eight Australians had pushed two tables together and seemed to be having a drinking competition. The barman was also watching them with sharp eyes while he stacked glasses and served customers. Maksim chuckled to himself, at least they hadn't started to build pyramids with empty Fosters lager cans yet, but there_ were_ a fair few cans littering the table. He recalled that the Australian rugby team were playing a series in England and assumed they were probably here for that. Hardly any danger there, although stranger things had happened to Maksim in his long life and undeath than a drunk Australian, rugby loving vampire.

What he _hadn't _seen was the blonde woman from the taxi who had followed him at a discreet distance and had gone up to the reception desk out in the hotel lobby while he was engaged with the porter.

It didn't take long for Maksim to see that there was _no_ sign of Cosmin in the bar and his heart sank a little. Even for a vampire Cosmin was a larger than life character and if he had arranged to meet Maksim then it would have been in the bar or the lounge or even a coffee shop and not up in a hotel room. There was also the fact that Cosmin had sounded...well... even a little scared on the phone, and the little matter of how he had managed to locate Maksim in the first place, a matter than had evinced more than a little suspicion from Eönwë, Ereinion and the others the previous evening.

Something was wrong, and not just the fact that Cosmin wasn't sitting there in the bar quaffing back the finest wine the hotel could provide, but despite the air of evil that was beginning to pervade the air around him Maksim felt almost compelled to find out_ wh_y he wasn't there.

He approached the hotel receptionist, a young red haired woman who smiled brightly at him, despite the tired look in her eyes which spoke of a long shift and difficult hotel guests.

"Can I help you sir?"

He gave her Cosmin's name and asked her if she could check if he was registered at the hotel. It took her only seconds to check the computer screen.

"Yes, Mr Stanescu _is_ a guest here." She confirmed with a bright professional smile. "Room 301 on the third floor at the back. Would you like me to call him for you?"

Maksim gave her his best smile. "Actually we haven't seen each other for some time and I was hoping to surprise him. Would it be possible for me to just go up to his room and knock?"

An expression of doubt flitted across the girl's face. "Well..we don't usually allow non-guests in the guest areas, sir. I could get in a lot of trouble if the manager found out."

"I am not here to rob your guests." He said gently. "However I wouldn't wish you to get in any trouble on my account..."

He was about to ask her to call the room when she seemed to come to a decision about him. At the same time a very well dressed woman came to the desk and demanded attention. The girl was immediately divided in two.

"It's okay sir." She said hurriedly to him. "If you head towards the lift you'll see the fire exit which takes you out to the stairs. Two flights up, take a left and room 301 is at the back of the building next to the fire exit that leads to the fire escape. You won't be able to take the lift because you need the room key card to operate it."

She then turned that bright professional smile on the well dressed woman which allowed Maksim to escape and head towards the fire exist and the stairs unnoticed.

He stopped on the first stairwell and loosened his knife in its scabbard. He took his gun out of the holster and kept it hidden inside his jacket just in case he met any guests on their way down the stairs. Thoughts were flying around his brain now. He wondered if Cosmin had deliberately asked for a room out of the way and with a ready escape route for a reason and if so, why had he not availed himself of that escape route if he had felt threatened? Or maybe he had and had long since flown the coop?

Or perhaps he had not and who knew what was awaiting Maksim in that anonymous hotel room.

As he approached the top of the stairs that led into the stairwell on the third floor, he stopped dead. The stairwell itself had no natural illumination from windows and relied solely on lighting, both from the palely lit overhead globes set into the ceiling and from the green exit signs, except that here, on the third floor, the lighting appeared to have failed and the stairwell itself was a pool of gloom.

This was not a problem for Maksim, not only did vampires have enhanced senses of smell and hearing, their eyesight was also excellent. It told him that the door which led onto the third floor from the stairwell was painted a dark blue. On it there was the traditional green writing on a white background of the exit sign and set into the door at eye height was a square panel of reinforced glass. The stairs on his right went further upwards, but whether to another floor Maksim could not immediately tell, however he decided to check them all the same.

It wouldn't do to be trapped by danger coming down from another floor behind him while danger also stalked in front of him.

Examination of the stairs leading up showed Maksim that there was no other floor. They merely led to a fire door which presumably led to the roof. He opened it cautiously and saw that this was indeed the case, but leading down from the roof area was a sturdy looking black metal fire escape which started at the roof and ended on the ground far below. From this Maksim deduced that Cosmin's hotel room must be quite near the exits since the receptionist had told him that room 301 was near the fire escape.

He glanced around him but there was nothing untoward on the flat roof area, however he could see how close the roofs of the other buildings nearby were and it would be nothing for a vampire to scale them and make his or her escape, but then, by the same degree, it would also be nothing for a werewolf either or presumably _any_ creature of Herumor's.

Maksim headed back down the stairs to the blue fire door. He cocked his weapon and held it ready while he peered cautiously through the square glass window. The lighting in the corridor on the other side had also failed and it could have been just some safety trip had been activated, but somehow he doubted that any guest had not reported the lack of lighting. He cautiously pushed the door open and winced when it squeaked slightly causing him to freeze instantly. After a few moments of immobility and deathly silence, he ventured out into the corridor and stood in the soft carpeted area. Despite the darkness he could make out the sign on the wall opposite him which read **"To Rooms 301 – 307"** and an arrow pointed straight ahead of him.

It didn't take enhanced vampire senses to realise that the both the darkness and the eerie silence shrouding the third floor of this hotel was not normal. Something was very wrong here and Maksim felt reluctant to move either forward or backward.

Even as he stood there undecided watching the deeper black shadows billow out towards him as though they were living matter hellbent on engulfing everything in their path, he heard a sound that galvanised him into movement. A soft thud and an even softer cry of someone or something very much approaching fear. The cold hardness of the metal of his gun in his hand brought him back to his senses and he moved swiftly, but catlike, as only a vampire could, straight ahead to a door that stood ajar. On it were three numbers...301 and inside he could just see a figure standing hunched over in terror in the muted light from a window covered with heavy curtains.

ooOoo


	42. The Taming of the Wolf

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The village of Sampford Hatherleigh is entirely from my own imagination and any resemblance beteween it or any real village in Devon, England is entirely coincidental  
**

**Author's Note: **My oh my, the plot thickens! Thank you to the reviewers once again and on with the story.

". . . there was about him a suggestion of lurking ferocity, as though the Wild still lingered in him and the wolf in him merely slept."

___**- **____**Jack London**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 42 – The Taming of the Wolf**

ooOoo

**The Village of Sampford Hatherleigh, Devon, England**

If there was one thing six-year old Lucy Jones hated with all the fervour of her tiny being, it was putting her hand up to the teacher to ask if she may please go to the toilet because it usually heralded a flurry of giggling from the other children every time one of them did that, but mainly because of the fact that they all knew where she was going and she was quite a private child. Normally she hung on, rocking back and forth and trying her best not to wet herself, but today it was proving to be an impossible task, so with great reluctance she raised her small hand and waited as patiently as she could for Miss Hatton, her teacher, to notice her.

Miss Colleen Hatton was what was generally referred to as an 'incomer' by the rest of the village, being, as it was, in the wilds of Devon and situated only a few miles away from Dartmoor National Forest and therefore quite isolated. It was a pretty place with picture book houses and it was served by what was called an 'A' road which ran quite close to the village and was connected to it by a number of 'B' roads. This meant that during bad winters, they could be cut off by snow and bad weather. The nearest arterial main road was the A30 which ran a few miles south of the village.

The village was also served by a British Rail station, but that was a few miles away and mainly used by commuters around the area. They would drive their cars there in the morning, park them in the British Rail car park and then catch the train to wherever their place of work happened to be.

Traditionally, the villagers were quite a quiet group, most them from families who had lived in the area for a good many generations. This was not to say that they were inbred, since an influx of townies from up London way all wanting the 'country experience' in the area had meant that new blood had been injected into the village population. However there was still a core group who kept the village traditions afloat and of course there were always the tourists.

Colleen Hatton had been delighted when, after having gone through a round of very stringent interviews by the School Trustees, she was offered the post of teacher at a small school in the village which catered to the smaller primary school age children. She had been even more delighted when she found a tiny cottage to rent in the village itself. Since most of her early life and working life she had worked and lived in the big city of Manchester in the north west of England, coming down to live in Sampford Hatherleigh was like a dream come true. The fact that she had landed her dream teaching post, with a small class, about fifteen, children was just the icing on the cake for her.

The morning of Tuesday, the 4th of October dawned as normal. The days were drawing in and getting up at seven o'clock meant that she showered, dressed and breakfasted in the dark and it also meant that at three-thirty in the afternoon the sun was already sinking in the west. This morning was no exception to the rule and there was nothing in the atmosphere to make her think that the day would be any different to all the others in the year. She had already done her lesson plans for the whole day. In the morning there would be literacy, or what would have been known as reading, writing and spelling in the old days, that would take her up to small break at ten o'clock and then after that it would be numeracy or arithmetic. After that would be both hers and her pupils' favourite occupation; making decorations for Halloween, which after all, was not so far off.

And so far, as she stood watching over the industriously bent heads of her class, eight girls and seven boys, she had to congratulate herself that the day had gone very well so far.

This was a situation that was about to be remedied, although neither Colleen, her colleague Sal Watson next door who took the older children who were pre-secondary school age or the headmistress, Elizabeth Drury were aware of that. And like a flame to touch paper, Lucy's simple request to be excused seemed to trigger off a sequence of events that would be remembered in the village for centuries to come.

ooOoo

**A secret Military research facility deep in the Cotswolds, south-west England **

"How long has he been like this?"

Eönwë turned to Dr Rob Norman, who pushed his glasses back up his sweaty nose and peered at the tall handsome Brigadier. There were no prizes for guessing that the two tall beings with him were both from the wonderful, fantastical world of Elves which Rob had been introduced to in a much earlier stage of earth during the War of Wrath (1). Inside he was itching to ask them questions, take blood samples...anything...just to know what made this other species tick and what made them different from plain old ordinary homo sapiens.

But right now that was last on the priority list. What was on the top of the list was giving this beautiful, but scary Brigadier an answer that would satisfy him and right now Rob had no such answers to give.

It had all began early in the morning. The guard patrolling the corridors where Jeff Harris's secure room was situated reported in that Patient Harris was very restless. He had taken to pacing around the room, his eyes filled with agitation and his hands curled into claws. Occasionally he would take a leap across the room and hurl himself bodily against the door making both the guard and the orderly leap back against the far corridor wall even though they knew fine well that no matter how hard Jeff did it, he would not be able to budge the twelve inch thick, specially constructed, security door.

Still, the whole thing was no less scary for all that and definitely worthy of reporting, with the result that the Brigadier and his two companions, one with long shining red hair, pale translucent features that gave off a distinct pearly glow and bright, piercing green eyes and the other almost exactly the same except that his hair was like ebony and his eyes, although also bright, were grey and had an altogether gentler expression in them, had arrived a couple of hours later.

By the time they had got there, Jeff was fully transformed into wolven form and was hunched in one corner of the room gibbering to himself. He had ceased to hurl himself around the room, but his pyjamas lay in a ripped up heap on the floor by the door, a testament to the fact that they had become far too tight for him to endure.

"He's been transformed fully for about half an hour now." Rob tried to keep his voice even. The scientist in him was fascinated by any of the changes Jeff manifested, but the human in him recognised something primal and very savage and like most species, when faced with something that could rip him apart with one massive set of claws, the other part of him wanted to curl up in a corner and pretend nothing was happening.

"Do we have any idea what triggered this off? I thought that he was getting a handle on the metamorphosis and that the recent drugs you started him on were helping with that." Eönwë persisted, despite the fact that he could see the fear and desire to escape in the back of the young man's eyes.

Rob swallowed nervously and nearly jumped out of his skin when a mournful howl sprang up from inside the secure room. "He was...he_ is._..I mean, he had even got to the stage where we could actually talk to him during metamorphosis into the wolf and he would be able to acknowledge it by communicating with the system of hand signals we taught him for that purpose. _Nothing _else has happened, that we know of."

Eönwë stared through the reinforced, Plexiglas viewing window at the hunched mass of grey fur inside the room. Maedhros and Maglor stood quietly by also watching Jeff as he shuddered and gibbered to himself, occasionally punctuating the gibbering with a hair-raising ululating howl. The Maia concentrated his thoughts and tried to reach Jeff's mind, but the modern reinforced concrete and steel walls prevented him from connecting properly and apart from Jeff raising his head and peering in the direction of the viewing window with his feral yellow wolf's eyes and twitching grey muzzle, Eönwë could sense none of his thoughts.

He stood quietly in thought for a moment, turning away from both the window and Rob Norman and the security guard but facing the two Elves. His eyes silvered over and the Elves knew instinctively that he was in communion with one of the Valar...most probably Lord Orome. He was in communion for long enough to make Rob feel rather nervous. He cleared his throat as if he was going to speak and caught the eye of the red-haired Elf who shot him an amused smile, gave a small shake of his head and put his finger against his lips. Rob fell silent again, a silence that was only disturbed by the guard shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other while he was trying not to stare in awe at the three beautiful men in front of him, each of which nearly topped the seven foot mark.

After what seemed like an age to both Rob and the guard, Eönwë finally blinked and the silvered look slid away from his eyes leaving them the normal dark blue. He smiled at Rob reassuringly and patted his arm, then he spoke to the two Elves.

"I will need to go in there."

Rob's mouth dropped open and he grasped onto the Herald's sleeve. "Are you crazy? You can't go in there, he'll tear you apart."

Eönwë looked down at him with mild impatience, but it was enough for Rob to let go of his sleeve. "I have no choice Dr Norman. I do not believe he will hurt me."

Rob groaned. "And if he does? How the hell am I going to explain the death of a very senior Military officer to the Ministry of Defence? They'll hang, draw and quarter me! Or at the very least demote me to junior researcher."

"Well let's just hope it's the latter." Eönwë said with just a hint of wickedness in his smile. "Nothing is going to happen to me." He turned to the guard. "Open the door please."

The guard looked uncertainly at Rob who waved his hands in a 'just do what he says' gesture at him. He shrugged, swiped his card, punched in the code and then turned to the Herald.

"Do you want me to come in with you Sir?"

Eönwë shook his head. "It is not necessary. I think that he will be more inclined to trust me if I'm alone." He looked at Maedhros and Maglor and spoke to them in Sindarin. "One of you take watch by the viewing window, if you believe there is trouble, both of you must come in to help me restrain him. I think the three of us should manage."

The two Elves inclined their heads. "It shall be as you command Lord Eönwë ." Maedhros answered softly for them both.

Rob and the guard watched as the two Elves moved into position and Eönwë pushed the door open. A look of trepidation crossed over Rob's face even though he knew that the Brigadier and the Maia were one and the same. He had no idea just how powerful the Herald of Manwe could be.

"Why do I get the impression that he actually didn't _need _anyone to unlock the door?" He wondered, half to himself.

"Perhaps because he does not." Maglor responded softly. "However, to materialise so abruptly in the room may cause the werewolf to feel threatened. The Brigadier wishes to alleviate that fear."

Rob nodded slowly. "I get that. I just hope he can keep Harris calm while he's in there."

They watched as Eönwë approached Jeff. Far from looming in his full considerable height and power over the gibbering creature that was Jeff Harris, instead he squatted down beside him. They saw Harris's head turn towards Eönwë's and all of them, even the guard, were struck by the tortured look in the werewolf's eyes.

"Dear god." Rob moaned. "He's aware. He _knows_ what he is. All the time we thought he was barely functioning emotionally while in wolf form."

The eyes of the Elves were bright, but filled with compassion for Jeff and in Maedhros's case a little anger too. "That they should twist _any _creature to that extent." He whispered under his breath. "It is unconscionable, it is _beyond_ cruel and malicious. They should pay dearly for this."

Maglor put a hand on his brother's arm, no less appalled. "And they will my brother...they will. I will not swear an oath on it, for we, more than any other, know how well _that_ can turn out, but I will not rest until this darkness is lifted from all races on this earth. This much I _do_ swear."

ooOoo

Eönwë hunkered down beside the shuddering mass of grey fur and reached out with one hand. "Jeff... look at me." He said softly but the young man would not look his way, instead the massive head looked downwards.

"Jeff, _look at me_." This time his voice, gentle before, now had a firm tone of command in it. Gradually the massive shaggy head turned and even Eönwë was not quite prepared for the look of agony in those yellow eyes.

"You are ashamed." The Herald continued gently and was rewarded finally by the wolf laying the side of its cheek against Eönwë's outstretched hand. "There is no need child, none of this is your fault, but we need to know what ails you now and to do that, we need you to change back into your human form so that you can speak with us. Can you do that?"

Jeff gave a strange cross between a huff and a soft growl which, in the absence of a show of fangs or violence, Eönwë took as assent. "Then do so. You will not be harmed."

Within seconds Jeff had begun to transform back into human form. Once the transformation was complete he knelt naked and shivering on the floor in front of the Herald. Eönwë stood up and looked around him. There was a soft blue toweling bathrobe hanging on the back of the door which led to a small shower room and toilet. He took it down and threw it over the young man who sniffled and shoved his arms through the sleeves.

"How do you feel?" Eönwë asked him.

Jeff shook his head as he struggled into the pair of jeans that Eönwë handed to him. "Tired, confused...hungry ...I don't know." He sat down on the bed and buried his head in his hands. "The call was so strong that time, it took _all _of my strength not to listen to it." He looked up at Eönwë with pleading in his eyes. "Could you not just let me go outside? I haven't seen sunlight for a long time and I could really use a cup of coffee, not in here...outside...somewhere else. I won't hurt anyone, I promise."

Eönwë's eyes crinkled with laughter. "Do you not think I could stop you if you chose to try to hurt someone child?"

Jeff looked at him and then the tears came. Eönwë folded him into his arms and held him while he wept, stroking his hair and gently comforting him. Finally the weeping stopped and Eönwë helped him up to his feet.

"Let's go and get that cup of coffee, from the canteen. What do you say?"

ooOoo

"He'd make a hell of a lion tamer." The guard remarked laconically from outside the room where he was witnessing the taming of the wolf.

Both of the Elves laughed, the silvery sounds of their laughter rang along the empty corridors.

"I've never seen anything quite that." Rob admitted. "We seem to have to use a battery of tranquillizer darts even to get him to stay still once the wolf emerges."

A few moments later Eönwë appeared in the doorway, leading a quiescent Jeff, no longer in wolven form. He glanced at Maglor and grinned mischievously.

"You should be pleased that I was otherwise engaged with our young friend Maglor, otherwise my book and pen to record that oath you made earlier would have been ready." He scolded them gently. "As it is...I think we will let you off that particular oath, not that it is _not_ one worthy of record. And now...coffee in the canteen I think."

"Are you sure?" Rob asked nervously, glancing at the now quiet Jeff.

"Do you doubt me child?"

Eönwë's voice deepened and for a moment he seemed to grow in size until he was a lot taller than everyone else. Even the guard took a step back, goggling. A golden aura of power wafted around the Herald's form and clung to him. The two Elves dropped their heads in polite reverence. It was not often that a Maia chose to show his true power, even in Valinor and it was a sight neither of them had seen before.

Rob almost dropped to his knees except that the Herald reached out with one hand and held him up. The scientist looked up into his face and found he couldn't really focus on it at all, it seemed to be filled with the most incredible bright light which appeared to be leaking from the Maia's eyes. He blinked furiously and tears stung his eyes.

"Look again Rob. I have muted the light for you, then tell me whether you have any doubts that I can and _will _control the situation if it occurs."

Eönwë's voice was deep and commanding and Rob found he could look into the Maia's eyes once again.

"I have no doubts." He said simply.

"Then let's get that coffee shall we?" Eönwë appeared to have shrunk back down to his usual still formidable looking self and his eyes no longer leaked bright painful light. They were back to their normal dark blue.

"_What in the name of Eru was that?_" Maedhros whispered to Maglor as they followed Eönwë and the others up in the elevator to the administration level where the cafeteria was.

"I am not sure." Maglor replied. "But I think we just got our first look at the true nature of one of the Ainur."

Maedhros stared after the Herald as he led the way into the cafeteria. "Truthfully I think that Atto could not have _ever _seen such a sight. I think even _he _would have obeyed the command to return to Valinor if he had."

Maglor chuckled and clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Perhaps not, I am glad we won't have to put it to the test to be honest!"

An hour later they were in Eönwë's Range Rover heading west with Jeff, now dressed, in the back with Maedhros and Maglor in the front. The expressions on all of their faces were grim.

"You have no doubt of this?" Eönwë persisted.

Jim shook his head. "None. And we need to hurry, they may have already been and gone. We may be too late. Perhaps we should have called the police."

"It's unlikely that they would have even listened." Eönwë said calmly. "The nearest fairly large police presence is in Tiverton. If this is what you say it is, then I don't believe that the local police will be up to it. Alun, Finrod, Jim and the others are coming from London and our friends in the SAS should get there from RAF Credenhill around the same time we do. I think that's enough firepower to deal with anything _without_ having to explain to the local PC Plod what we think might be happening."

ooOoo

**The Village of Sampford Hatherleigh, Devon, England, two-thirty on the afternoon of 4th October**

There was a good chance that if there had been a roll of toilet paper in any of the cubicles in the small cloakroom that served the infants side of the small school in the village of Sampford Hatherleigh, Lucy Jones would have been back in her classroom quite quickly. However there wasn't and being a very clean child, she pulled a face at the notion of not using toilet paper after using the toilet. So rather than head back to her classroom, she chose to go and look for some and that decision was the one that saved her from a horrible fate or, at the very least, a fate which could have been described as worse than death.

After checking each cubicle to see if there was some toilet paper and ending up empty-handed, she then turned her attention to the cupboard in the corner where the school cleaner kept the stores. Of course the cupboard was quite tall, much taller than Lucy, but being of an obstinate frame of mind and totally preoccupied with the important task of cleanliness, something drummed into her by her mother, she didn't let that stop her. Faint heart ne'er won fair lady and she spied a bucket and a mop down by the side of the cupboard near the big chunky old style radiator which wasn't part of the now updated heating system but nobody had bothered to remove. If she stood on the upturned bucket she could just about climb onto the radiator and then she could reach the packs of toilet paper which were stacked up there.

On the other side of the cupboard was the door into the corridor. The school itself was built in a square with what was called a quadrangle in the middle. You could look out of the big windows in the corridor on the quadrangle side and see the whole area quite clearly. There were paths around the quad of course but in the middle, on a large patch of green lawn where they often had lessons if the weather was hot, was a large shady chestnut tree. In spring this tree was the bane of every little girl's life as the boys loved to pick the hard conkers and pelt them at everyone despite the fact that they knew they weren't supposed to.

The door of the Infants School girl's toilets had a glass panel in it, but also running along the length of the top of the wall adjoining the corridor was a series of long rectangular windows which looked onto the corridor and which allowed some natural light into the toilets.

It also allowed anyone who might have been up at that height...like say on the top of a large broad cupboard...to see anything coming along the corridor without actually being seen themselves.

Lucy reached out as far as her small arms could manage, but she still couldn't reach the stacks of toilet paper. She was now in the realms of a child's single-mindedness and so absorbed in her chosen task, she had forgotten that the teacher might be wondering where she was, but undaunted she managed to scramble up on top of the cupboard and claim her prize.

And it was from here that she first saw the big dog.

It was also from here that she heard the first screams.

It didn't sound like the kind of screaming that happened from playing games, although she tried to persuade herself that it was. It was only when the second very big dog with nasty yellow eyes and big big teeth in a red mouth like the wolf in Red Riding Hood, came along the corridor and out into the quadrangle that she realised that something wasn't right and she froze, right there in the middle of stacks of packets of four toilet rolls from Tesco Supermarket.

She didn't move one muscle when she saw the teacher for the class above hers get dragged out into the garden. She also didn't move when the teacher was torn to pieces in front of her horrified eyes. A sob escaped her when she saw Colleen Hatton desperately trying to herd her little class to safety and bravely tried to protect them to no avail. Lucy closed her eyes just as three of the big dogs circled them, effectively separating the frightened children from their teacher, and brought her down. She could hear the terrified screaming and sobbing of her school friends and big fat tears squeezed out from under her eyelids, but she wouldn't...no _couldn't..._move and it was that instinct, the one of survival, that ultimately saved her life.

She opened her eyes and wiped her wet cheeks and nose on her sleeve – something else Mummy had told her not to do, but then Mummy wasn't here was she? Unfortunately that small movement was accompanied by an equally small noise, one that at least one of the large dogs seemed to detect. To her horror she saw it loping along back the toilet block corridor where it stopped outside the door. She froze again and the hiccuping sob that rose in her throat was strangled at birth. It only then occurred to her that the big dogs could actually stand up like human beings and walk, as the one outside the girl's toilets did. Any fond faint hope that she might have had that dogs couldn't open doors died in an instant.

This dog...no...this _wolf._.. _could_ open doors and it was opening the door just down from where she crouched, in amongst the toilet roll packs on top of the cleaner's cupboard.

From where she was Lucy could see the thick dark fur on the top of the wolf's head. She could smell that horrible damp dog smell that her granddad's old collie dog had after he had been out in the rain, along with another coppery smell. She held her breath, terrified, as the wolf moved into the toilets, checking each cubicle. She could now see that its fur was splotched with brownish-red patches and that its grizzled muzzle had blood around it. She didn't want to think about where that blood had come from. A vision of the teacher being ripped apart earlier flashed through her mind and she cut it off ruthlessly.

No...that had _not _happened.

The wolf had finished checking the toilets...would a wolf or a dog really do that, she wondered? It was now standing in front of the cupboard. She could hear its deep, hoarse panting breaths and worse, she could also smell its rank foetid breath. It reached up with one long arm and she could now also see its massive curving claws. She shrank back as it moved a couple of the packs which then fell down on top of it. One bounced off the top of the wolf's head and it growled in annoyance.

It was at that point that fickle Fate stepped in and gave a helping hand for a change. Lucy's mind finally shut down and mercifully blocked everything out. She fainted dead away, hidden by packs of toilet rolls and the wolf, hearing the call from its leaders, left the toilets and left her where she was.

An eerie silence had fallen over the small school. To anyone outside it would have looked the same as it always looked except for the absence of children's chanting voices or laughter and voices of the teachers giving their lessons.

Inside, under the chestnut tree, it was not so peaceful. It looked like a massacre and something almost entirely covered in a sheen of shiny red blood and which might have been Colleen Hatton, shuddered once and then lay still.

Of the children there was no sign.

ooOoo

(1) **A Singular Honour** - Dr Rob Norman was the scientific advisor for the SAS team who went through the portal to retrieve Gary, Kim and the others.


	43. The Aftermath

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Eönwë's reluctance to contact the local police comes from the knowledge that the local policeman, even if there was one, would not really be able to do anything alone, even if Eönwë could have persuaded him that there was bunch of werewolves on the loose. The same applies to the Tiverton police who, although they are a much larger HQ, really have no experience of what might be happening and would be more likely to send in the British version of SWAT and hostage negotiators. Again, once they realised that the children were gone and were nowhere in the building and the injuries on the dead were not from gunshot, but from being mauled, the news would come out and the public would panic.

Eönwë knows that if he calls out a full terrorist alert for no reason, he will bring himself to the attention of the authorities again and this time they might do more than just put him under surveillance. So he does the only thing he can do. He notifies the only police unit who actually _know_ about the darkness and are anywhere near equipped to deal with it and also the SAS unit who are now on detachment under his command and who also know that the threat is real. Also Eönwë is working on a hunch that Jeff is, in fact, correct, but none of them are quite sure how accurate his assessment is. Jeff hears a call from the others that tells him to go to a certain place where they're gathering. He knows where the place is but he's not completely plugged into the natural lines of communication between the werewolves, he's more like someone who hears something he wasn't really supposed to on a telephone extension.

Also remember that Herumor is doing this very cleverly. He knows that sending an _army _of werewolves, vampires, orcs and whatever else he has to hand is not the way to go in this war. Instead he is infiltrating the highest echelons of power, people who could, if necessary, even cover up the fact that the _entire population_ of a village had disappeared, never mind just the children. The boldness of this attack is a testament to his growing feeling of invincibility and this is what Eönwë and the others have to battle against.

"**Jim Hacker (Prime Minister):** I know _exactly_ who reads the papers. The Daily Mirror is read by people who _think_ they run the country. The Guardian is read by people who think they _ought_ to run the country. The Times is read by people who actually _do_ run the country. The Daily Mirror is read by the _wives _of the people who run the country. The Financial Times is read by people who _own _the country. The Morning Star is read by people who think the country ought to be run by _another c_ountry. The Daily Telegraph is read by people who think it _is._

**Sir Humphrey Appleby**: Prime Minister, what about people who read the Sun?

**Bernard:** Sun readers don't _care_ who runs the country as long as she's got big tits."

___**- **__** A Conflict of Interest, (From BBC TV series **____**Yes Prime Minister)**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 43 – The Aftermath**

ooOoo

**The Village of Sampford Hatherleigh, Devon, England**

Eönwë stood in the middle of the village green and stared around him. His emotions were far too strong for mere words. In the village hall, the local coroner and his staff had set up a temporary mortuary and the entire village was now a 'no-go' area with both a shocked local police force and soldiers from 22 SAS Regiment from Credenhill guarding the periphery. Nobody but the police, the army and the relevant authorities were being allowed in and out.

A handful of stunned and bereaved men and women who were resident in the actual village were being put up in a local hotel and conference centre which had been closed for renovations and then hastily opened up for the purpose by the local authorities. Those men and women were the commuters who had already left for work when the Lycans had struck. Some of them were people who lived outside the village but sent their children to the school there. Others were people who had gone out early in the morning and had only returned on the late afternoon and then early evening train. They had found themselves locked out of house and home and overwhelmed with distress at the continuing secrecy and security surrounding the fate of their loved ones.

Her Majesty the Queen, the Prime Minister, the Home Office and the Ministry of Defence had all been fully briefed and an emergency meeting of the Cabinet had been called. The General was on his way down, along with the Chief Constable of Devon and the heads of the intelligence services and it was thought that once they arrived an official statement would be made. Already the media and the press were camped out in the fields and in the nearby lanes, frustrated in their attempts to get a scoop or indeed any kind of news at all by the vigilance of the police and soldiers. A directive had come down from the Prime Minister's office via the Police that an embargo was now on any kind of news reporting that was not authorised by them.

All in all, it was exactly the kind of circus Eönwë had feared, but once he, Jeff, Maedhros and Maglor had arrived it became obvious that the situation could not be contained. That was confirmed by both the SAS commander on the ground and also Alun Davies who had been forced to escalate it as an incident.

At the moment the incident was being classed as possible terrorist action and lock down had taken place accordingly.

Eönwë had never felt so helpless in his entire life. The Lycans had been efficient, silent and swift in their killing spree. Sampford Hatherleigh was a very small place, population of one hundred and thirty-nine, now decimated down to approximately thirty. They had gone from house to house killing every adult human being, but they had taken three children who were below school age. Like the village in eastern Europe, Finrod, Maedhros and Maglor had found three infants below the age of six months hidden, presumably by their mothers before they were dragged to their deaths.

From the school, the three teachers and the Headmistress were all dead, they had been dragged out into the school quadrangle and killed near the chestnut tree. Eönwë and the Elves had heard the lament of the tree passed along to all the other trees long before they even got to the village, so they fully knew what to expect.

Out of the children listed in the school records and confirmed by a horrified and distressed local Education Authority official, none could be found and no evidence of any bodies, which meant that whoever had perpetrated this monstrous act had taken the children with them.

Eönwë had watched as fathers and mothers returned home from work or had gone to fetch their children from school if they lived outside the village itself and were forcibly restrained from entering. The hysterical crying of the women and anger of the men still rang in his ears. As a father himself he knew how he would be feeling and all he could do was stand by helplessly while they were led away by Red Cross and St John's Ambulance staff and taken to the conference centre where they would be looked after, helped by trauma counsellors and where they would await the news of their families fate.

The Elves were silent and grim as they went about the business of search and rescue alongside the equally silent and grim police and paramedics. Nobody asked them who they were or what they were doing there and this was largely because Alun Davies had absorbed them into his team. Jeff sat on a bench on the village green, Eönwë had kept him nearby and directed the search and rescue operation himself from the command tent that had been set up. The grief, horror and anger on the young man's face was mirrored on the Maia's face and indeed the faces of everyone present at the scene.

Eönwë had spoken to Kim earlier and confirmed that none of them would be home early. Since the news of some disaster was already leaking through, he confirmed to her that the Lycans had struck a small village in Devon and advised her that they should be on their guard. He had originally intended to ask that Elladan drove Ereinion down to Devon, but then some instinct told him to leave them in Hampshire to look after Kim, Allie, Celebrian and the rest of the household. With Erestor, Elladan, Ereinion, Haldir and Maksim all being experienced warriors the Matthews household would be safe...for now at least.

He found that his grief had to remain bottled up because as the most senior official on the ground in the village meant that all the emergency services reported in to him. Chief Knowles had arrived a couple of hours earlier and was helping to co-ordinate everything.

The Coroner's staff, pathologists, paramedics and the police who were doing the search had the worst of it, because it was they who took the bodies, and in some cases mere body parts, into the temporary mortuary. The SOCO (1) people were already undermanned and stretched trying to seal off a crime scene that covered an entire village. Another distressing situation that had arisen was the various village pets; cats, dogs who had fled before the feral nature of the attackers and were now coming back cautiously to their homes and a number of caged birds, hamsters and rabbits. Only one animal, a German Shepherd, was found injured and for some reason the Lycans had not killed it, but merely incapacitated it and left it bleeding, but not severely injured, in the driveway of its home.

As the police and the authorities wondered what the hell to do with the animals a man and woman suddenly appeared among them and introduced themselves as people who ran a local animal hospital and accredited charity. They and two of their helpers packed the animals away in carriers and took them away with them until such times as the owners who remained would be able to look after them. Eönwë had smiled and inclined his head as Lord Orome and Lady Vána passed him along with two of their Maia, one of whom was carefully carrying the injured dog. Only two horses remained stabled within the village and Eönwë had decided that once everything was quiet he would arrange for them to be taken to his residence, since there were two empty loose boxes there and Erestor and Haldir could care for them more than adequately. No doubt relatives of their owner would eventually claim them once the dust had settled.

Now all that remained was for Eönwë to wait while the co-ordination reports came in from the various search parties and also await the various dignitaries who were about to descend on the tiny little village. The search and rescue section that was searching the school thoroughly and which was comprised of Jim, Jan, Finrod and Alun Davies was the last to report in.

"Nothing." Jim said grimly and Jan nodded in agreement. "Other than the bodies which are now in the mortuary, there is _no _sign of the kids."

Eönwë turned to the three silent Elves. "I need you and Maglor to do some tracking for me, are you up for it?"

Maedhros's eyes gleamed. "You want us to see whether we can track the werewolves."

"I do." Eönwë confirmed. "I can think of no-one better for the task, unless of course it was another werewolf."

He looked over at Jeff who looked up in anticipation. He had taken the hideous damage done to human life quite personally.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked.

Eönwë sat down beside him. "I know it is a risky thing to ask you, but...if you were to transform under the cover of darkness, do you think you could control the change enough to help Maedhros and Maglor track the werewolves?"

Jeff stared at him and the Herald could see a new resolve in his eyes. "Yes, I can control it. You don't need to worry about me, the medication Dr Rob gives me does help take away worst of the blood lust and that's the one thing that worries me the most. I want them caught and stopped...I _won't_ be like them, I just won't."

Eönwë patted him on his arm. "Good, Dr Norman is on his way down to give Maedhros and Maglor a supply of your medication. He'll also show them how to administer it. They will also have the tranquillizer guns with them in case of accidents."

"I understand." Jeff said grimly. "They say it takes a thief to catch a thief. I think that the others think I'm dead, or just a piece of meat on a laboratory table so they won't be worried about anything I might be doing. I despise what they have done to me and even more so what they have done here. Part of them is still human, how can they live with something like this? How can they kill defenseless children?"

Eönwë's expression grew cold and hard. "I don't believe that they _are_ going to kill the children, I believe they are going to do something _quite_ different with them."

The others shuddered at the picture the Herald's words conjured up. There did have to be a reason why only children of a certain age were being taken.

"The other thing to consider, of course, is the boldness of this act of theirs in taking out a whole village in England." Eönwë pondered. "Whilst it is true that the village is reasonably isolated, a village in this country is a far cry from a village in eastern Europe where hundreds of miles separates villages and the larger towns. Herumor must feel _very_ sure of himself and his ability to influence the British government to cover this up. It will be interesting to see _how_ the government deals with this incident and what they tell the British public, because what they say and do now will tell us how far his influence has grown."

Alun Davies had come over to them by this time. "Finrod's just finishing up checking the east side of the school quadrangle, mainly store rooms and toilets, they were left until last since it appears that all of the children were in class at the time of the attack any way." He turned to Eönwë. "I heard a lot of what you said, and I agree with you. It seems clear to me that they're going to pass this off as a terrorist attack."

Eönwë nodded affirmation. "Indeed, the infrastructure has already been put in place referring to it as such. However, part of me can't blame them for that. Any kind of story involving werewolves will either be greeted with ridicule by the public and won't satisfy a need for vengeance or it would put the whole country in a state of panic. They have to keep the situation calm and under control. Only _we _know the truth of it and so it's up to us to investigate further." He nodded to Maedhros and Maglor who had been conferring with Jeff and Rob Norman. "Are you ready to go?"

Maedhros grinned, this was his type of action and he was ready for the hunt and Maglor was no less ready. They had their weapons and were dressed in lightweight dark clothing supplied by the SAS people. Jeff was still dressed in his jeans, tee shirt and jacket, he had no need for special clothing.

"We are ready. The SAS commander has had one of his men identify a place in the woods as a base well away from any habitation and two of his soldiers will remain there. Jeff will disrobe and change there far away from people. We have radio communication with them as well." Maedhros held up a hand-held radio unit. "If we have any trouble, they will send assistance, but there's no point in them travelling with us since we will be much faster than they would be."

A grim smile twisted Eönwë's mouth. "Good. I suggest you leave now then..."

He was interrupted by a sudden commotion and the sight of paramedics running over to where a tall, golden-haired figure was striding down the lane from the school. Finrod had completed his search and in his arms he carried a small child, a little girl by the look of it, her long light brown hair was coming loose from its pigtails and her face was pressed tightly against the Elf's chest. He ignored the paramedics and the police crowding around and marched straight over to where the Herald stood with his group. His expression was stricken and his eyes were like fell blue flame.

"She was on top of a cupboard in the toilets." He said and there was an underlying note of both horror and ferocity in his voice. "She would have seen it all..._everything_....her friends, her teachers...what they did with them." There was a sudden break in his voice.

Eönwë's face crumpled in sympathy, as did everyone around them. He touched Finrod's arm. "You must let the doctors look at her Finderato."

Finrod looked up at him and Eönwë was reminded of the stubborn reborn Elf who had stood in the Gardens of the Lorien and wanted to go back into Mandos for his friend Glorfindel who had not been reborn yet.

The doctor and one of the paramedics had reached them by this time and the doctor held out his arms for the child who immediately shrank further into Finrod's embrace. Finrod held her closely against him and stroked her hair.

"Sîdh pen nîn tithen." He crooned softly and gradually the trembling that had increased when Finrod had tried to hand her to the doctor eased. He looked up at the doctor. "She is terrified, and with good reason, can you examine her while I hold her?"

The young doctor was a father himself and he smiled. "Of course I can, we just need to make sure that she wasn't harmed in any way, then perhaps one of the counsellors can come over and try to talk to her. She really does need to be in hospital though, at least once she feels safer. For now I think you're probably the best one to be with her since you have established a bond of trust."

Eönwë gestured to Finrod and the doctor to come into the command tent and he ousted everyone from the tent apart from Chief Knowles. Finrod sat down at one of the tables with his little charge in his arms and Eönwë stood at some distance so that his presence didn't frighten her further. The little girl was showing more interest in her surroundings now and she looked up at Finrod who gave her a winning smile and like most females she responded immediately. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and Finrod gave her a hug which she returned. Her thumb remained firmly in her mouth however, even while the doctor gently examined her from head to foot and made silly jokes as he would have done with his own daughter. She didn't laugh, she just stared around her with eyes that were dark with scenes she should never have witnessed.

Finally the doctor declared her healthy, apart from her mental state. She had sank back against Finrod's chest and her eyes were beginning to close when she suddenly caught sight of Eönwë leaning casually against the table chatting to Chief Knowles She tugged at Finrod who looked down at her with a tender smile.

"What is it sweetling?"

She sat up and pointed at Eönwë. "Is he an angel?"

Finrod was startled by the question. He glanced up at Eönwë who was now smiling over at the little girl.

"Why do you ask?" He asked her quietly.

"Because he has bright lights around him and he has a big sword." Lucy said firmly. "Is he guarding us from the wolves?"

Finrod and the doctor exchanged glances. Eönwë was wearing his combats and he certainly didn't have a sword, although he _was_ carrying a pistol in a holster at his waist.

"Perhaps it's something to do with the trauma." The doctor said worriedly, he started to search in his bag. "Perhaps a mild sedative..."

Finrod put his hand out and stopped him. "That won't be necessary. I think she's just very tired and needs to sleep which she can do here for the moment. A hospital will only scare her more. I will stay with her."

He looked over at Eönwë in amusement. Through innocent eyes, the child was obviously able to see the Herald as he _truly_ was better than any adult.

The doctor looked at him dubiously. "If you're sure..."

"We are sure. We still need to find out who she is in any case. If Finrod can manage to get a name out of her we can check on the lists of the residents, perhaps her parents are among those at the conference centre. I am sure that if they are, they will want her with them as soon as possible, I know I would if it was my child." Eönwë interrupted firmly. He smiled at the doctor and allowed a little of his light to shine through. "We will take care of her, I'm sure that you're probably needed more elsewhere."

The doctor knew a dismissal when he heard one, even one that gentle and polite. He smiled and nodded, gently drawing a finger down the child's chubby cheeks. She was asleep now in the safety of Finrod's arms. He nodded at the Herald and Chief and left the tent. Finrod stood up with the sleeping child in his arms.

"Where shall I put her?" He asked.

Chief nodded over to the corner of the tent. "There's a bunk over there and some blankets. Is there anything on her with her name on it?"

Finrod looked confused. "How do you mean?"

Chief grinned. "Well...I know that when my kids were little my missus sewed name tags onto their clothes, so if they did exercises in their shorts and stuff they would know which clothes belonged to them. I suspect that this little lady's Mummy will have done just that."

Finrod laid her gently on the bunk and Chief Knowles gently peeled back the neck of her cardigan to reveal a white tag with blotchy looking writing, but the name on the tag was still quite clear.

"Lucy Jones." Chief said with a grin. He bent over the little girl and tucked a warm blanket under her chin. "Well Miss Lucy, let's go and see if your parents are among the survivors shall we?"

Finrod pulled a chair over to the bunk and sat down beside the little girl. Jan appeared apparently out of thin air with a mug of hot chocolate which she handed to him.

"Are you hungry?" She asked.

Finrod grimaced at her but took the hot chocolate from her. "Not at the moment, maybe in about two or three days perhaps."

She nodded sympathetically. "I guess a lot of people are feeling the same. Two of the Red Cross people have set up shop in the local Cafe and they have tea, coffee, chocolate and sandwiches on the go, so if any of you _do_ need anything, we can get it from there. In the meantime there's some coffee, tea and chocolate in the mugs on the tray." She pointed to another table.

Eönwë nodded absently as he and the Chief ran down the list of names. "Thank you Jan it was good of you to think of that..._there!_" He stabbed his finger at two names. "Jones, David and Kathleen. They both work in London and must be in the conference centre with the others. So who...?"

"They had an au pair." Chief said quietly. "A girl from Hungary called Beáta Benedek, aged 21 years according to the Electoral Roll and the Immigration people. So far not identified among the bodies, although it will take time for all that to be sorted out." He picked up his mobile phone and started to dial the conference centre. "I guess that at least _one _set of parents will be considering themselves very lucky tonight."

Eönwë nodded soberly. "Yes indeed. _Any_ good that we can take from this awful situation is better than none at all. And the child's age notwithstanding, she will _still _have to undergo questioning by the police. She is the only witness to the deaths of her teachers and the disappearance of her classmates. Although I doubt that she could shed any light on what happened in the village itself."

ooOoo

**Residence of Brigadier Gary Matthews, Hampshire, England**

"I am glad to see that the prevailing notion among the Eldar that twins faded irrevocably when they were apart is _not_ the case with you and your brother."

Ereinion Gil-galad's astute observation jolted Elladan from his pondering. Theoretically he was sitting in the conservatory reading one of the books from Eönwë's study, but in truth he wasn't seeing the lettering on the page in front of him. Instead he was obviously miles away. He made to stand up politely when he looked up to see the tall form of his father's former King and dear friend lounging in the doorway.

The former High King forestalled him by waving a casual hand in his general direction. "No need for formalities. Nobody else stands on ceremony here, for which I am exceedingly grateful believe me." He pointed at the book. "What are you so engrossed in?"

Elladan grinned and had the grace to look a little ashamed. "I was trying to read up on the ancient civilisations that came about after the end of our time and the ice age, but I started woolgathering when the list of Sumerian gods grew longer and longer. Why they had so many of them, Eru only knows."

"I imagine he does know." Ereinion settled himself on one of the wicker chairs. "I think that the Eldar left a gap when we all finally sailed and left the world in the hands of men my young friend. We who knew, above all other races in Middle-earth, of the Valar and Eru did not really bother ourselves to hand down that information to the race of Men apart from a few select individuals and just look what they did with that information. Then we left them, for the most part, with a void which they proceeded to fill with their _own_ ideas of a power that guides all. I sometimes wonder whether Eru really did wish us to do that. Especially considering the example of Numenor."

Elladan tried not to feel affronted. "We left Middle-earth in the very capable hands of our little brother Estel and our sister Arwen! We assumed that any teachings that existed among the descendants of Numenor and the vast knowledge and wisdom of Arwen Undomiel would have been passed down. Nay...I am _sure_ that they would have been passed down."

Ereinion raised a dark eyebrow. "And your sister and Elessar lived for how long after they came to the throne of Gondor? A hundred and eighty years as reckoned by the time of mortal man? A mere brief moment in time for the Eldar. The memories of the race of Men are not as long as ours, as you well know Elladan Elrondian and your little brother and sister would have been hard put to travel across the globe teaching about the Valar and Eru to every race on it especially given that they had the reunified lands to govern and bring back to life after years...nay decades...of constant strife and war."

"They had children." Elladan protested. "Eldarion was his father's son and carried enough of his mother's wisdom to carry on the knowledge and teachings of the Eldar."

"I have no doubt that he did that but eventually the bloodline of Elros and Elrond would have been irretrievably thinned as scions of the house of Telcontar gradually intermarried with the local stock. Customs and traditions long since set down would have slipped into the background until they became forgotten altogether or mere ghosts of what they had been in times past." Ereinion interjected softly. "Once your sister had faded, they would have had _nothing_ left of the Eldar to remind them that we ever even existed. In the absence of proof of higher powers such as the Valar or Eru Iluvator, the race of men chose to fill the void with deities of their own making, for to not have a higher power in which to place justification of events beyond their understanding and some fear of reprimand would have been unthinkable, otherwise how would they have maintained control among the masses other than with force of arms?"

Elladan sighed. "I do not wish to acknowledge it, but I fear you are right, although from what I have read both deities _and_ force of arms were used to rule their lands and the lands were much divided, perhaps even more so than in the days of the Eldar in Middle-earth. They still are in fact. Do you believe we should have remained then? How could we have stopped the ice from covering everything?"

Ereinion thought for a moment before he answered him. "I believe that we took the easy way out and left the race of Men to their own devices and without guidance of knowledge of those things we _know_ to exist. We could not have stopped the temperature dropping or the ice from covering the earth, but the ingenuity and hardiness of the Eldar race would have prevailed and the Secondborn, at least more than a remnant, would have survived alongside us, you have your _own _proof of that. Eventually the Valar would have _had_ to acknowledge our presence."

"But...we had yeni upon yeni of hardship here constantly at war and dying in a way that the Eldar were_ never_ meant to do and the Secondborn's lifespan is _much_ shorter than ours. It was their time to rule, or so said the Wise. Their suffering is brief compared to those of us condemned to the doom of the Eldar."

Ereinion gazed at him from under hooded eyelids. "All the more reason for us to stay and guide them do you not think?" He said quietly. "Especially since we created a great deal of the strife ourselves, along with the Valar of course. With the fall of Sauron, the final of Morgoth's most powerful minions, the Valar and the Eldar finally laid down stewardship of this place and shut themselves off, not even batting so much as an eyelid or a concern for what had happened to the Secondborn even as the ice covered this earth and wiped out complete civilisations, Human...Naugrim and Holbytla. What of _their_ suffering? Is it easier for them to suffer just because their suffering happens in a shorter lifespan than ours?"

"I cared...I _care_." Elladan said stubbornly. "I gave them a thought. I gave them more than one thought. It was only because I couldn't bear for Naneth to have lost another child that I sailed with Elrohir. While he sat on the ship babbling about new starts and new lives, all I could think about was how small and frail mortal man looked and how fleeting their legacy." He rose to his feet and paced around the conservatory. "I did not _want _to be in Valinor. Oh it is beautiful to be sure, but there is beauty here also. I know Ada thinks that the advances of modern man are brash and garish with little thought behind them other than to make money, but I _like_ it here."

Ereinion smiled up at him. "Oh yes my young friend, there _is_ beauty here indeed and they need us here to help them conserve it. I believe that the Valar are finally being constrained by Eru to take up the reins once more, otherwise why would we all be here with their blessing?"

"_I_ should have been stronger and stayed." Celebrian's voice broke into the conversation. She came in with a tray with tea and coffee which she placed on the table. "I can see that now. I was weak..."

Elladan pulled his mother into his arms and held her close. "No, _no_ Naneth. You were fading, you _needed_ to go and heal. You had suffered so much at the hands of the orcs. Your body was broken and nobody would have expected you to endure the suffering in your mind."

Celebrian reached up and patted his cheek. "And do you think that women, both then _and _here and now in Middle-earth do not suffer similar hideous experiences and torture? Dear child, women get raped and horribly hurt here every day and where then do they go for healing of the mind once their bodies are mended by the miracle of modern science? They have no Blessed Realm and the welcoming arms of Lord Irmo and Lady Este to help them heal in both mind _and _body. No, they have to stay and carry on because they have families to bring up and succour and people who need them. And those who have not the strength to do that eventually take their own lives in desperation and shame. Even so, they _all _show more strength and courage than I did. I _also_ had a family to support and I should have...how do modern folk say it? I should have got my shit together and stayed. Your father needed me. You and your brother and sister needed me and what did I do? I wimped out and I fled when the going got tough and when I see what awful things mortal women have to put up with I am utterly ashamed of myself."

"Naneth!" Elladan looked shocked for a moment and then burst out laughing. "All right, who _are_ you and what did you do with my mother?"

Celebrian giggled. "I blame Maksim. It's all those conversations we had when we were fleeing the werewolves..." She broke off at the sound of the front door slamming and the muffled exclamations of horror from Kim, Nerdanel and Erestor in the dim recesses of the kitchen. "What on earth?"

"Speaking of the devil..." Ereinion shot out of the door and across the hallway to the kitchen followed closely by both Elladan and Celebrian where a dramatic tableau awaited them.

Maksim was busy putting a very unconscious someone down on the long window seat that was set into the massive bay window of the dining area and Kim was busy putting a cushion under the head while Nerdanel stood by with a blanket. Erestor was brewing up some restorative herbal tea in the kitchen area.

"What happened?" Ereinion demanded.

Maksim stood up and the three Elves could now see that the someone lying on the window seat was a small blonde woman. Her face was deathly pale and her eyes were closed, the lashes lying like black smudges on her waxy cheeks. There was a purplish tinge to her eyelids that Elladan, a proponent of his father's healing arts, did not like the look of at all.

It was only when he caught a look at her limp arm that he took a step back, breath harshly indrawn, and muttered a Khuzdul oath more to himself than to anyone else in the room. Her arm and hand, from the forearm down to the fingertips was a blotchy bluish-grey colour as though something had drawn the very lifeblood from that part of her body. Fine black veins were starting to spread along the arm.

It was an injury he had seen before, although not for a very long time. The last people, either human or elf who he had seen in that state had fought on the Fields of Pelennor and had come under the influence of the Witch King of Angmar and his Nazgul. If he hadn't known better, Elladan would have sworn that it was Eowyn herself, arm damaged and soul withdrawn from terror deep inside her, lying on that window seat.

Ereinion also recognised it, as did Erestor from the battles of the Last Alliance. It was in truth the Black Breath and something they had fought to eradicate millennia ago.

"She was in Cosmin's room" Maksim said. "There was someone..._something_ in there with her. I don't know if Cosmin was there, had been there or had been vanquished. There was no sign of him that I can see. She fell to the floor and I caught her...dragged her out. It came after me, but I think that it could not prevail over me, perhaps because I don't have a soul as such. I picked her up and fled with her over my shoulder down the fire escape. The evil and blackness that emanated from that...that.._.thing_..." He shuddered and took the glass of brandy Erestor had poured for him with a nod of thanks. He gulped it down. "I could not leave her there. She's so cold, why is she so cold?"

Ereinion gripped his arm. It had to be bad when a vampire was shaken to his very core. "You did the right thing Maksim. Sit down for a moment and try to be calm. We need to know _exactly _what happened."

Kim came back into the room. "I called Eönwë, he's in a meeting with the General and some other high-ups, there's apparently been some bad trouble down in Devon, but he will come as soon as he can. He says we must take precautions. Maedhros and Maglor are on their way as well. They had apparently gone down to Devon with him." She shook her head. "I...I'm not sure what he means about precautions though. Has he spoken to any of you about this?"

"He gave me some very precise instructions." Haldir spoke from the back door where he had been outside patrolling around the house. He set his bow and quiver of arrows down by the side of the door and came into the room. The blonde woman moaned and the former Marchwarden crossed the room and bent over her. "She has the Black Breath. Elladan will know how to cure her."

Elladan looked at him blankly. " Estel used Athelas to bring Eowyn back, but I doubt that it grows in Middle-earth in this modern age."

Haldir laughed. "Indeed I believe you would be right, and it was a thought that the Lady of Light also had, which is why she made me bring Athelas plants with me from Valinor which were grown from cuttings that Erestor and Elrond brought with them when they sailed West. They are in the greenhouse where I have been cultivating them."

"Lady of Light?"

Maksim looked confused and Ereinion chuckled. "A splendid lady of great power and a cousin of mine Max, her name is Galadriel and she is Elladan's grandmother."

Haldir smiled. "I will fetch one of the plants in from the greenhouse and then we will talk about the instructions that the Herald gave me. Lord Ereinion will have to be aware of them anyway and there is no time like the present."

"I think that we will also hear your tale Maksim, after we have ensured the security of the house and everyone in it. I think it might have a bearing on any action we take tonight. In the meantime we will go round and secure what doors and windows may need securing and also make sure the animals are inside, just in case. Where is Allie?" Ereinion looked at Kim who started nervously.

"Oh...she was in Eönwë's study watching her television programmes. Dora the Explorer and Spongebob Squarepants were on and she loves them so much." She went pale and left the room quickly to check on her daughter only to come back seconds later with a look of profound shock on her face. "You'd better come and see this..."

When they crowded into the study doorway, they immediately saw what had shocked her so much. Allie was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room. On one side of her sat Bob the dog, his bright brown eyes fixed on the little girl. On the other side of her crouched Rasputin the cat who was also watching her with his bright yellow eyes in an unblinking gaze. Allie's eyes were closed, but a bright golden light was seeping out from under her eyelids and her small hands were raised up, as if in supplication or prayer. A soft pulsating glow pervaded the room and tendrils of the light were snaking around the windows and the walls.

They all stepped back instinctively as the light tendrils curled around the door and spread along the passageway. Kim let out a soft sob and reached out a hand towards her daughter, but was stopped by Maksim.

"Leave her Lady Kim." He said softly. "She is weaving a protection around this house. You must let her finish. When she is finished none but those who are given leave to enter this place will be able to enter without being challenged by the guardian she is summoning."

Kim stared at him aghast. "But how...how does she know how to do that? How do you know what she's doing?"

Maksim smiled. "Because I have seen it done before by a powerful Magus and _she_ knows how to do it because it is the nature of her power as given to her by her father's line. Her legacy if you will. _You_ are the one who grounds them both, without you they would fail in their task to bring light to this dark earth and protect the innocent."

"He is right." Haldir said quietly. He had the pot of Athelas in his hand and Elladan took it from him and went back into the kitchen. "Your daughter is part of the security precautions the Herald set in place for just such a time of danger as this. My instructions are to guard her while she does this and this I will do now if I may." He bowed to Kim who nodded. She still looked utterly bewildered.

Ereinion nodded. "Very well Master Haldir, we will leave you to guard the child. In the meantime, we will let Maksim tell us his story, for I believe that it is not from werewolves that we need protection, but from the darkness he and the mortal woman encountered. Darkness that may well have followed them here. Let us hope that the protection the child is weaving is sufficient."

Maksim laughed. "It will be, believe me, I can feel it working even now."

ooOoo

(1) SOCO – Scene of Crime Officers, the British equivalent of CIS


	44. The Need to Know

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the slight delay again. As I said before my youngest son was made redundant from his job and he is going to take them to an Employment Tribunal. It's been a very upsetting time and I have needed to offer a lot of support to him and his family. Hopefully things will start to ease in the next few weeks.

"**Sir Humphrey Appleby**: Bernard, Ministers should never know more than they need to know. Then they can't tell anyone. Like secret agents, they could be captured and tortured.  
**Bernard Woolley**: You mean by terrorists?  
**Sir Humphrey Appleby**: By the BBC, Bernard."

___**- **__** BBC TV series **____**Yes Prime Minister**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 44 – The Need to Know**

**Residence of Brigadier Gary Matthews, Hampshire, England**

Kim Matthews sat on the king size bed she shared with her husband, not that he really needed sleep as such, but he came to bed anyway. After all it was what husbands and wives did wasn't it?

It wasn't that there was anything wrong in her marriage, quite the contrary, Eönwë was as good at being a husband in the majority of the areas that mattered in a marriage as he was at everything else. They had a loving, passionate relationship and she knew how lucky she was every time she spent time with the other officer's wives and heard their laments about husbands going off on exercise, having affairs with whatever women were around, soldiers or not. Kim knew that her husband would never do anything like that. Maiar were one-woman men.

She knew about Arien of course, Eönwë had been totally honest and he had also been honest about the numerous one-night stands and short term girlfriends he had as Gary, although she couldn't help but smile every time he referred to it because of the look of disapproval on his face. It was part of his existence that _still _managed to raise an eyebrow with him and one that, to her amusement, he still separated from his Maia persona. Sailing down that great big river in Egypt, Kim chuckled to herself. Denial was a wonderful thing.

She wasn't sure what she was letting herself in for when she fell in love with the tall, devastatingly handsome Maia and became pregnant with their daughter. It hadn't happened under a normal controlled situation anyway, since Gary had spent a lot of time denying he was interested when in fact he was hopelessly in love with her, so when he and Eönwë swapped bodies back in the War of Wrath, Eönwë had discovered that he felt the same attraction for her, and why wouldn't he? After all they were one and the same person in essence. Hence she ended up pregnant and Eönwë was the father. To her it really meant little difference. She loved her husband whoever he was, Gary or Eönwë, fiercely. He might be a one-woman Maia, but she was also a one-Maia woman.

This didn't mean that he didn't annoy her intensely sometimes. For a sort of angel he was remarkably dim about a lot of things to do with women and relationships.

And now they had Allie, cue the reason she was sitting alone in her bedroom rather than downstairs with everyone else. Allie was her baby, her little girl. She was only three years old for god's sake. How in hell's name was she _supposed _to react to the fact that her three year old baby was downstairs busy weaving protection spells around the house and everyone else was being so bloody calm about it.

Kim couldn't quite decide whether to start crying and never stop, kick every door in the house in or beat her head against the wall in anger and frustration. _She_ was the mother, _she_ was supposed to do the protecting and yet there her little girl was, protecting everyone else and they were all utterly filled with acceptance about it.

She wasn't filled with acceptance; she wanted to run amok with an axe.

And here she was, fuming inside, feeling vulnerable and choked up with tears... _again_. So Eönwë had_ known_ that his daughter had those considerable powers had he? Well of _course_ he had. He had just failed to let _her_ in on the secret. Once again he'd kept important things from her and now she felt like a complete dickhead ...again, standing there dumbstruck and with her mouth open like the village idiot as her baby appealed to higher powers for the strength to protect everyone. Higher powers? Kim ground her teeth in fury. Allie was supposed to be doing finger painting, learning to write her own name, yanking pots and pans out of the cupboard and generally making a mess around the house, she wasn't supposed to be weaving fucking spells!

_I am going to kill him. _She trembled with suppressed anger. _I am...I am going to kill him, slowly, and I am going to smile while I am doing it._

"Would you like some help with that?"

A deep, but pleasant, voice interrupted her murderous planning and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Standing by the window was a tall figure dressed in white with a deep blue cloak that matched the deep blue of his eyes. His long hair was white, or was it silver? His smile was warm and generous and reflected the twinkle in his blue eyes. A glow and aura of power which shimmered around him immediately told her that he was one of the Valar, his demeanour and the power reminded her strongly of Tulkas who she did know quite well.

"You are quite right." He approved. "I am indeed one of the Valar, but you and I have not met and I decided that it was about time we did." He stepped forward and held out a hand. "My name is Manwe Sulimo and your husband is...was..." He frowned slightly "Well I suppose he still is really...my Herald."

"He's an _idiot._" Kim hissed and then went bright red and accepted Manwe's hand. He captured hers in both of his own and drew her to him in a warm embrace. Normally she would have been far to angry to accept comfort, but something about this personage made her drop her guard and hostility.

"Yes you are quite right my dear, that is _exactly _what he is." Manwe soothed into her blonde hair. He rocked her gently back and forth as she finally released a virtual waterfall of tears of both anger and misery onto his white velveteen covered shoulder.

After the weeping had stopped, she sniffed and pulled back, embarrassed that she'd burst into tears in front of someone who was in reality her husband's big boss. She reached out and gently rubbed the wet patch on his shoulder.

"I've made a mess of your nice shirt...jacket...whatever it is." She sniffled miserably, looking around for some tissues and finally finding some in the en suite bathroom she shared with Eönwë .

Lord Manwe by this time, had settled himself on the end of the large bed and he patted the bed beside him. "It _is _rather nice isn't it?" He said in amusement. "I think they call it a surcoat though. I understand people in modern Arda no longer wear surcoats. Come and sit down my dear."

Kim sat down very cautiously on the end of the bed beside Manwe. "Are you going to yell at me?" She asked doubtfully.

Manwe's eyes opened wide with surprise. "Why would I do that?"

She shrugged. "I thought maybe you came because I wasn't being a good wife to him or a good mother to Allie."

Whatever Manwe might have thought, this was so far from it as to be absolutely astounding. He was so taken aback by her statement he lost the power of speech for the moment. Instead he gently turned her face to his with one finger and looked deep into her eyes. He saw all of her self-doubt and her feeling of humiliation that she felt she wasn't good enough for Eönwë or even good enough to be the mother of his child and his heart went out to her.

"Child, nothing could be further from the truth. I came here because it was brought to my notice that _you_ needed support and guidance. My wife offered to come, but I felt for once it was my task to undertake since Eönwë stands in place of any son I might have had. He is a brave and good Maia and loyal to a fault, but he becomes too involved in his appointed task and is failing to confide things in you that he _must_ confide if he is to succeed. You are an important figure in both his and Almare's lives and it is important that he communicates with you."

Kim laughed bitterly. "Oh well,_ that _certainly isn't happening, I find all the important things out either when something awful happens, or like tonight when all of a sudden I discover that my three year old daughter can do spells and that her father knows it and is expecting her to protect everyone. I am so angry with him I want to see blood."

Manwe touched her cheek with the back of his hand. "I understand how you must be feeling and I am rather irritated with him that he hasn't explained to you the things that may happen with Almare, being who and what she is. I now see that, surrounded as you are by beings who must seem much more powerful and in control, that you feel you are floundering and I am come now to make things right. There is much for you to learn so that you can feel that you are...how would a modern mortal put it...on a level playing field?"

Kim gave a small laugh. "Yeah, that's how it goes, but why wasn't I taught this stuff before?"

Manwe sighed and took possession of her hand. He stroked it absently before speaking. "We had rather hoped that Eönwë would have much more time before events began to guide you as to the nature of the Maia and your daughter in particular, but things have moved very quickly and it is now time for us to step in, since he cannot be in two places at once, Maia or not." He stood up. "It is time child for you to come and learn about what will, eventually, be your home, and there you can also learn how to best deal with Almare and understand Eönwë a little better. In doing so, perhaps we can make you feel more comfortable in your role of mother and wife to them both."

All the colour drained out of Kim's face and she also stood up, backing up against the wall. "You want me to come with you now? I can't...I _can't_ leave them. You may not know it but they attacked a village in Devon, Eönwë is there now, and we might come under attack. You can't ask me to leave my daughter here in danger while I go off somewhere and frolic under the trees learning about Maia!"

Her voice rose up and Manwe sighed again. He had hoped that he could have caught her in a more pliable mood, but he also understood that part of her growing anger was from panic and fear so his response was gentle and filled with compassion.

"We _do_ know about it child." He said softly. "And we grieve with the race of Men over the loss, but yes, this is _exactly_ what we are asking of you. I can see how angry you are with Eönwë because he continues to appear to shut you out and this is a state of affairs we cannot allow to continue. Believe me when I tell you that time in the Blessed Realm does not pass the same way as it does here. It will seem as though you are there for days, perhaps weeks, and yet here it may only be hours. Your daughter will be safe. She has _many _guardians here to keep her safe and who would not dream of usurping your position with her."

Kim hung her head. She hated being vulnerable and virtually forced into a corner, but she knew that she wasn't helping Eönwë by constantly having tantrums, even if they _were _caused by the fact that he shut her out of everything, not intentionally, but because it was easier and faster to do it than going into long explanations. One thing was for certain, she couldn't carry on the way she was. It might also be nice to get some help and advice because the older Allie got, the worse it would get.

"Okay." She said. "I'll come, but if it causes difficulties with my family I want your promise that I can come back straight away."

A delighted smile broke over Manwe's face. "Of course you have my firm promise on that and we will make sure you know _everything_ that is happening here during your stay with us. And Varda and I will be delighted to have the opportunity to get to know you better. Lady Nerdanel and young Ereinion already know that you are coming to us for a visit and will oversee the household and see to your daughter in Eönwë's absence."

"There is that I suppose." Kim looked around the room vaguely, the whole thing had taken her completely by surprise. "Should I pack something? How will we get there?"

Manwe smiled and held out his hand which she took with a small frown creased between her eyes. "You will need nothing and we are already there."

Kim gasped with shock as she realised that they had travelled with the speed of light and instead of her bedroom, she found herself in the private quarters in Oiolosse of Lord Manwe and Lady Varda who was waiting for for them accompanied by an unusually excited Ilmare ready to meet her brother's wife for the first time.

ooOoo

**A few hours later in Hampshire...**

To all intents and purposes nothing at all had altered in the Matthews household. Allie was now asleep with Bob the dog in his usual place across the threshold of the her bedroom door and Rasputin was comfortably ensconced on her small dressing table. Ereinion had explained to the rest of the household that Kim would be away for a little while and the household had slipped into an effortless routine. If anyone was aware of the protections surrounding the house now, nobody mentioned it. The power used to protect the house and the guardian set on it was Ainur magic and completely out of the sphere of the Elves or mere mortals. The house had an invisible guardian and it recognised those who were resident and tolerated those who were guests. If an attempt was made to breach the barriers around the house then the guardian would activate and repel them immediately.

From the windows of the now safe house, Ereinion and the others had watched as the darkness billowed over the garden, covering everything in a black, deep as pitch. After an hour nothing could be seen of the other houses, the road or vehicles beyond, but an icy cold had spread around the Herald's house. Ereinion held his breath as tendrils of the blackness started to creep out, testing the area for a weakness.

"There." Maksim spoke softy and they all turned and followed his pointing finger.

One of the tendrils had reached the barrier erected by Allie. No sooner had it penetrated than a bright glow began in the place; a glow which spread around the tendril which appeared to shrivel into nothing but pale grey smoke as the glow absorbed it. For some unknown reason the Elves could not see the appearance of the guardian, but Maksim could and he shrank back and closed his eyes. Celebrian noticed his sudden reaction.

"What is it Maksim?" She asked, putting a gentle hand on his arm.

Maksim shook himself and opened his eyes. "You cannot see it?" His voice was a fearful whisper.

Celebrian shook her head. "I see nothing but a bright glow and see..." She pointed outside. "...the darkness is withdrawing, very quickly."

The vampire shuddered. "I cannot look, Lady." He moved back and sank into a chair, covering his eyes with one trembling hand. "Perhaps it is because a demon occupies my soul, but I cannot look at the Guardian. I am not meant to see it and still live. It is only because the child has included me in the list of accepted people that I remain here and am not turned to dust. The guardian protects against all evil in whatever form it comes. This is what you are seeing."

"You are _not _evil." Angry colour flamed Celebrian's pale cheeks. "I know you have a demon in you, but you are not evil. You live because whatever the Powers are that this magic comes from recognise that."

Ereinion turned to Maksim. "The Eldar can sense evil Maksim." He said evenly. "And while we are very aware of what you are and what you are capable of and we have a natural reluctance against what to us is an unnatural state of being, none of us sense evil in you other than that small part of you that you call a demon."

Erestor chose that moment to come back in, accompanied by Nerdanel. Both of them were carrying trays with hot drinks and Erestor himself handed the mug of pig's blood to Maksim who took it with a smile, stood up and started to leave the room to drink, as was his wont when others were present. He did not like to drink the blood in front of these bright, pure beings.

"Stay." Ereinion's voice was soft but firm. "We all know what you have to do to survive, my friend, but you have proved yourself to be part of this battle on the side of Light. There is no need to hide what you are and what you need to do from us."'

A muscle was jumping in Maksim's jaw and he could hardly speak. He nodded mutely and sat back down. Emotions that had long been quiescent and which he had believed himself to be incapable of began to build up in his chest and throat. He did not drink, but clutched onto the mug tightly as if it was some kind of sanity preserver.

Celebrian touched Ereinion's hand and gestured silently over to where the vampire sat holding the mug between his hands.

"Look." She said softly. "There are tears. Do vampires cry?"

Ereinion shook his head. "I do not know. I suspect it is not usual. However I think they are _capable _of many feelings but this demon holds them back. The barriers between Maksim and his true nature are beginning to break down and it began with rescuing you."

Celebrian's eyes were filled with compassion. "I wonder what it is that he sees which we do not." She pondered. "This guardian must be a fearsome creature indeed to fill such a creature as a vampire with fear."

"Indeed." Ereinion's reply was sober and more than a little wary. He had no doubt at all at the fearsomeness of the guardian summoned to protect the Herald's household, in his limited experience the Ainur never seemed to do anything by halves anyway. They either did far too much or far too little. The air of power that had surrounded that little girl had been tremendous and for the first time he began to wonder at the _true_ nature of the Valar and the Maiar under the surface of their light and grace. He was starting to sense something very alien in them; a potentially very dangerous and formidable something that he had not previously associated with either race.

It was not a comfortable feeling at all.

ooOoo

Eönwë arrived home long after Finrod and the others. Maedhros, Maglor and Jeff Harris had tracked the Werewolves to a small village on the south coast in between Brighton and Dover. The trail had gone cold at an isolated house on the cliffs overlooking the sea. They had at least found some evidence of the Werewolves having fed their captives. Empty milk cartons, sandwich wrappings and empty fruit squash cartons were littered across the large cellar, which had a stout door on it and a heavy padlock and which ran the full width and length of the house itself.

Evidence of heavy chains set into the walls and a large and strong metal cage which had been constructed in the corner of the cellar made it clear to the two Elves and Jeff what the house was used for.

"A halfway house." Jeff said quietly. He had resumed human form by this time. "I am guessing that they are taken from here to the beach and then taken from England over to Europe. It's the only thing that makes sense." He sniffed the air. "I can smell the children's fear still in the air."

Both Maedhros and Maglor could also sense the miasma of terror that clung to the very walls of this place and the darkness bore down on both of them like a heavy weight. Jeff's head suddenly reared up. "We must leave...now."

His sudden agitation told both Elves that they would not be alone for much longer. "Surely not the group and the children coming back?" Queried Maglor.

Jeff shook his head. "No, there are no children with them, these are just adults and there's too many of them for us to make a battle of it. We need to leave."

Maglor glanced swiftly at his brother; Maedhros was reckless and certainly angry enough at the werewolves for their indiscriminate savagery, but he felt relief as Maedhros nodded assent at Jeff and they moved silently up the stairs to the kitchen and out through the back door and not before time as a squad of about twenty of the creatures loped into the front garden of the house and disappeared inside.

None of them spoke as they ran swiftly through the woods. Once well out of the immediate area of the house, Maglor contacted the SAS with his radio and asked for pickup. They were given co-ordinates for a helicopter landing pad on top of an hotel in Brighton and two hours later they were airlifted and then dropped at RAF Odiham which was only a few miles from the Brigadier's house. They arrived a good couple of hours before Eönwë, who had been in a top level security briefing.

ooOoo

"Is everything quiet?" Eönwë asked Ereinion after he had found Ereinion, Erestor and Haldir in the kitchen.

Erestor nodded confirmation as he put a mug of tea down in front of the weary looking Herald. "Indeed. Maglor is in your study, Celebrian and Nerdanel have retired for the night, Maedhros and Maksim are doing a patrol around the gardens. We had a little trouble persuading Maksim to go out of the house, he was afraid of the guardian, but Lord Ereinion made him go to prove to him that he was in no danger. Finrod and Jim are not here and I assume they went back to London."

Eönwë laughed softly. "Maksim is in no danger from the guardian. It will allow him access despite it recognising his condition. The guardian also sees into hearts and minds and makes its own judgments, but you did come under attack of some sort? I sensed the residue of the darkness as soon as I entered the road."

"Yes, it came." Ereinion said briefly. "But the protection and the guardian worked like a charm. Maksim's reluctance came entirely from the fact that he could see the guardian's true form once it materialised, but the rest of us could only see a bright glow which seemed to dissolve the darkness."

Eönwë took a sip of his tea and sat back with a blissful look on his face. "That's the best cup of tea in the whole world Erestor. Much better than the toxic stuff they served at the security briefing."

Erestor smiled his thanks and sat down with his own cup of tea.

"And what of the attack?" Ereinion inquired. "Did they come to a decision about what they will tell the people?"

Eönwë's blissful expression changed to one of distaste. "The Security people will compile a report and that will be sent to the Prime Minister and he will make a decision based on their advice as to what to release to the general public. At the moment people just know that the village is sealed off and the relatives of the deceased are being kept at a conference centre a few miles away." He sighed deeply and sipped his tea again. "I had thought that they would call terrorism, but there were also mutterings from MI5 about chemical agents possibly having been used rather than outright violence. Where they got that from I don't know since the carnage was quite obviously physical. Right now I don't think the Home Office know _what_ to make of it and that tells me that Herumor is not in the pockets of the British government quite yet, but I do believe that the Security services have been compromised severely. They were suggesting closed coffins and no access even from the relatives, saying that if there was a chemical agent used, then the families could be told that opening the coffins could be dangerous still. They are quite obviously opting for a cover up of some kind."

"What about identification of the remains?" Ereinion asked softly.

Eönwë shook his head. "The remains, such as they are, are in too bad a condition for the relatives to formally identify them anyway. Identification is being done from dental records, or will be once they have sorted out what part belongs to which person."

Erestor had gone pale and Haldir just looked disgusted and angry. Ereinion shook his head is utter disbelief and sadness. "I thought I was inured to such atrocities from the wars in Middle-earth, but apparently I still have the capacity to be shocked. Maedhros spoke of a child surviving the massacre."

"Yes, a little girl, six years old. Finderato found her terrified and traumatised, hidden on top of a cupboard in the girl's toilets. She didn't really say anything, Finrod managed to calm her down so that she slept. The Security Services wanted to keep her separate, presumably for questioning, but I protested and the General and the Home Secretary backed me up, thank the Valar. Chief and I took her to her parents who were beyond overjoyed to see her. We had already informed the Red Cross and the trauma counsellors that this child had lived and they had the good sense to separate her parents from the others. Reuniting that little family was the only good thing to come out of tonight." Eönwë drained his mug of tea and stood up. "I had better go in and see Maglor and Maedhros and get a report from their werewolf tracking earlier tonight."

Ereinion also stood up. "About Lady Kim, my lord..." His voice trailed off. He wasn't quite sure how to broach the subject of Kim's abrupt trip to Valinor.

Eönwë smiled reassuringly at him. "My wife is currently staying with Lord Manwe and Lady Varda...yes I know about that Ereinion. She won't be away long, but I think the stay will do her good and they and the rest of the Valar have long wanted to meet her, not to mention Ilmare."

"It will give her a chance to understand who you are better." Erestor agreed. "She has long struggled with the fact that you know everything about her and she knows little or nothing about your life there or even who you are."

Eönwë gave a ghost of a smile. "Yes I know, it's been hard for her. She knows Gary better than she does me, even though we are one and the same. The house and that damn big bed are going to seem very empty without her though." The sound of the front door closing quietly informed them that Maksim and Maedhros were back in the house after their patrol. "I'll be in the study with Maglor, if you could let Maedhros know to join us please Ereinion."

Ereinion bowed his head in assent. "Of course, I will ask him to join you." He hesitated and Eönwë raised a querying eyebrow as he detected a distinct discomfort in the demeanour of the former High King. For a few moments Ereinion found himself under regard from that keen, piercing gaze, however he put his chin up and withstood the regard calmly. "You should also know that there is another guest here tonight. The woman from the CIA or whatever they are called. Maksim rescued her from his friend's hotel room. She was suffering from the Black Breath but Elladan managed to bring her back. She is in the small sitting room and he is looking after her."

"Thank you for letting me know. Perhaps you could ask Maksim to join us in the study as well and I will see Elladan later with regard to the lady from the CIA." Eönwë nodded at Ereinion with a quizzical smile and left the kitchen heading across the corridor to the study. His gentle probing of Ereinion had clearly detected the former High King's new trepidation about the nature of the Ainur and there was no doubt that he _would _have to discuss the matter with him sooner rather than later.

He sighed deeply to himself. Changes were coming, both here in Middle-earth and in Valinor, the presence of an Ainur like Raguel in the Blessed Realm clearly demonstrated that, not to mention the appearance of the earthbound Ainur... those who were called the Grigori. He was going to have to meet them as well. Perhaps if there was a lull in Herumor's antics he and Kim could travel to Vevey and meet with this head of Grigori Enterprises, Joaquim de Salvo.

ooOoo


	45. Light and Shadows

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Thanks for the reviews once again. I am delayed a little by my grandson visiting me. It's half term holidays here for him.

"Now, I know you haven't been in the game for a while, mate, but we still do kill people. Sort of our raison d'etre, you know."

___**- **__** Spike, **_**_Season 2_**___**, Buffy the Vampire Slayer**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 45 – Light and Shadows**

**The Halls of Lord Manwe and Lady Varda, Oiolosse, Valinor**

The first thing that struck her was the air of peace and a feeling warm contentment, followed immediately by a spasm of guilt that she was safe while everyone else was fighting Herumor and his darkness. A guilt which dissipated on the warm scented breeze in the beautiful private gardens of Lord Manwe and Lady Varda.

She trailed her fingers in the fountain and then held them up and watched in fascination as the droplets of water sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight. She felt different in this place... renewed somehow and her eyes were seeing the most normal of things, like the water, as she had never ever seen them before.

"The water is beautiful is it not?" A soft voice intruded into her reverie and she glanced up to see Eönwë's sister standing beside her. "May I join you?"

Kim smiled at her. "Of course you can." She turned her gaze back to the crystal waters of the fountain, waters supplied by Lord Ulmo. "I was wondering how Eönwë could bear to leave here, it must have been such a wrench for him."

"My brother has always been a creature of duty, we are very alike in that way." Ilmare said quietly, watching as Kim trailed her hand through the water again. "Unfortunately his duties take him away from his home and he deals with it much better than I would."

"I don't think I realised just what his position was...is...here in Valinor. He's quite important isn't he?"

Ilmare's laughter rang out like silver bells. "Oh how he would laugh to hear you say that and then become very embarrassed. Trust me, my sister, there was a time when Eönwë was not so 'important' and the very last thing he wanted was to be put forward into such an elevated position. This is why I, out of all here, was not surprised when he fell in love with you. There is a huge part of my brother that longed for all the things he has since achieved. A wife who loves him utterly and completely. Children... he was _always_ fascinated by children. He would play with Lord Ingwe's brood for hours and hours. Any fool could see that he would make an exceptional father."

"He does." Kim said soberly. "Him being a good father is not the problem..."

Ilmare's blue eyes softened as she looked at Kim. "And where do you think that problem lies?"

Kim heaved a massive sigh. "Me... it's _always_ me. I want to understand him and I try so hard. Sometimes I think I've got a handle on who he is and then it all gets turned upside down and I'm left with the feeling that not only do I not know anything about him, I am probably never going to know. I am so afraid that I will eventually feel that way about Allie and then they'll _both_ give me that puzzled, disappointed look he sometimes gives me." She turned to Ilmare and the Maia was distressed to see tears on her cheeks, sparkling like the water spraying into the fountain.

"Oh my dear child." She said softly and put her arm around Kim's slim shoulders. "One thing that I need to tell you, if only just to reassure you, is how much my brother loves you. After Arien rejected him he was devastated. He went through the motions, throwing himself into his duties. We all worried about him, but he would never speak of it to anyone, not even Olorin who was one of his closest friends. We knew something had changed, but we did not know what it was until he regained his memories and the Lord and Lady told us that he had a wife and a child on the way. Then there was a spring in his step that had been missing for long millennia as counted by mortal standards. Before he left to come to you in Arda we sat and talked and he told me about you. If you could have seen the look in his eyes you would have no doubt. You do _not_ disappoint him, you fascinate him, you are unpredictable and he has told me since that he adores the fact that he never knows what to expect with each new day."

Kim gave a watery giggle. "That makes me sound like an airhead." But the truth was that her heart was singing a little at Ilmare's words of comfort.

Ilmare's small nose wrinkled up in puzzlement. "What is this 'airhead' you speak of?"

"Somebody who has no thoughts of consequence inside their head." Kim laughed and shrugged. "A flighty, scatterbrained simpleton."

Ilmare raised one finely shaped eyebrow. "Well you certainly do not strike me as a simpleton."

"But I do strike you as scatterbrained and flighty?" Kim said ruefully.

"No, no." Ilmare inwardly cursed her wayward tongue. "Not at all. A little confused perhaps and dealing with something that you were not prepared for properly, but nothing that cannot be helped. I think perhaps my brother likes the fact that you are a little scatterbrained. Arien is not scatterbrained at all. She is sharp, brittle and bright, her very fiery nature means that she could cut a swathe through someone's feelings and not even turn a hair or realise that she had burned all in her wake. It was because of this that she was the best person for her task, but completely wrong for Eönwë."

"What about the guy she ended up with?" Kim was beginning to see how bad Eönwë's first choice of love had been for him. At heart, although he could be as tough as the next guy, Eönwë was also gentle and compassionate, characteristics that would probably have irritated this Arien lady by the sounds of it.

Ilmare trailed her own hand in the water and then looked up through her lashes at the other woman. "Tilion? He is as cool water to her fire, they complement each other perfectly. She blazes, he cools. I think Eönwë was drawn at first to her bright light and then finally repelled by it. Tilion handles her perfectly in a way that my brother never could have done."

"You didn't approve of her."

Ilmare laughed again. "It was not a case of not approving of her as a person, but yes, I did not approve of her as a mate for Eönwë. I worried about it, I thought it would come to tears in the end and it did, but thankfully he had not bonded himself to her."

"Bonded? What does that mean?"

It was doubtful whether the handmaiden of Lady Varda could have been more surprised. Or shocked. She realised she was gaping at Kim who was looking back at her with first a puzzled expression and then one of concern.

"Do..." Ilmare stuttered at first. "Do you mean to tell me that Eönwë has not enlightened you as to the customs of bonding among the Maia?"

Even Kim registered the shock on her sister-in-law's face and took it entirely the wrong way. The colour swept up her neck and over her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I've gone and said the wrong thing again haven't I?" She caught Ilmare's slender hands up in distress, an act which gave the Maia time to recover herself.

"No...oh my dearest child, you have said nothing wrong. I...I am just so shocked that my brother has never explained anything to you. Especially of matters that concern you directly." Ilmare looked distressed on her own account, then she heaved a deep sigh. "What _has_ he told you...exactly?"

"You mean about being a Maia?" Kim asked.

Ilmare nodded. "Yes, about our customs and our ways. The things we can and cannot do, who we serve and what our purpose is here." Her tone was infinitely gentle.

Kim shook her head despondently. "No... he hasn't really sat down with me and talked about his life here. I know he is a Maia...a sort of angel. I know he was sent to modern Middle-earth in mortal form to start working against the darkness and it was interrupted by Morgoth. I know he is Lord Manwe's Herald, but I'm not terribly sure what that entails. He's strong, kind and very wise."

"I would beg leave to doubt the wise part." Ilmare muttered half to herself. "I can see he has allowed you to glean whatever knowledge you have from his actions or things he or others have said, rather than from actually teaching you about our kind. You do realise that you are now like the Eldar? You are immortal, but you can be hurt and killed. If you are then your fea or your soul as you term it, will go straight to Lord Namo's Halls for judgment and a period of reflection. When the time is right you would be reborn back into your marriage with Eönwë and then you would carry on until the end of Arda."

"Lord Manwe and Lady Varda explained that to me when I first got here." Kim said slowly. "Although it _was_ one of the things that Eönwë did explain. I didn't really understand fully what it meant until now though."

Ilmare felt relief at that at least. "All right, the bonding then...it is like your form of marriage really, but it takes place during the physical part of the ceremony." It was her turn to flush red with embarrassment.

Kim laughed. "Do you mean the wedding night? We have those among mortals as well you know, the physical act of making love."

"Yes, I do know that." Ilmare also laughed. Now how did she explain this? "Well during the physical act of love between two Maia a mental and physical bond is formed. I should tell you though that the physical act of love between two of our kind is not only the act of making love, it is also a mental state that both parties enter into. So your wedding to Eönwë would have been the vow-making and oath-taking part of the union and the wedding night would have been the actual bonding, done in private."

"Oh..." Kim stopped for a moment and thought, then she laughed again. "Well, by the time we got around to the vow-making bit, we had already done the physical bit and I was already three months pregnant with Allie."

Ilmare bit her lip, this was turning out to be a bit of a minefield. What in the name of Eru had Eönwë been _doing_ back then in the War of Wrath? Feeling like a drowning man looking for something to grab onto before going under, she decided to take another stab at the bonding explanation.

"Did you feel anything during your first...er...encounter with Eönwë?" She asked gently.

Kim was a bit taken aback at the question. "Feel anything? I felt lots of things, so did he from what I can remember from the expression on his face. Are you referring to any _particular_ anything or just the general overall feeling?"

"Did you feel a bond, a sensation in your mind that you and Eönwë were irrefutably meant to be together?" Ilmare gingerly probed the sore tooth a little further.

"Oh _that_!" Kim looked relieved, as if she'd been let off the hook from a particularly hoary question from the teacher. "I felt that from the moment I woke up in hospital and saw him sitting by my bed, but I think _he _didn't really feel it until later. He had far too much on his mind, such as whether I was a murderess or not. A little later, when he looked at me, I knew he was feeling the same thing, but it wouldn't have done at all if he'd said anything."

"Why not?" Poor bewildered Ilmare felt as though she was not only drowning, but sinking to the depths of a bottomless pool. Murderess? Nobody had mentioned that part to her.

Kim frowned. "Well because I was just a sergeant and he was an officer. It's not the done thing in the British Army, although it does happen more these days."

"It...it doesn't happen? You mean people in the British Army don't conduct relationships?"

_Someone give Ilmare a set of water-wings. _Lord Ulmo chuckled from where the Valar were tuning into this conversation. A ripple of amusement could be felt from the others. _The girl is floundering in very deep water here._

_How on earth did they get onto that tack? _Manwe said crossly. _Ilmare is supposed to be explaining what a Maia is and the customary bonding ceremonies between the Maiar, not getting into the ins and outs of sexual contact in the British Army._

_Give her a chance Manwe._ Namo's voice broke in. _They will get there in the end. Besides, I haven't enjoyed anything this much since Chief Knowles was here and Olorin was occupying his physical body (1)_

Manwe groaned._ This is not meant to be for our amusement Namo, it's meant to help the poor girl understand just what she has taken on._

_Watch and listen. _Namo said with a grin. _Eönwë's wife is about to demonstrate exactly why she is his wife._

Kim frowned. "Well of course they do, but we were talking about Eönwë and me weren't we? I _know _what I said might seem irrelevant, but you have to understand, Eönwë was Gary, a mortal man, at that time and mortals do things very differently. He liked me, I liked him, but I was a subordinate, so he didn't want to break the rules by telling me how he felt. It was only because we ended up in Middle-earth in the First Age that the scales were tipped. Everything was up for grabs. Even then Gary knew that he had a duty as an officer to get us all through the dangers in one piece, just like Eönwë knew he had a duty to command the army of the Valar. It was all Morgoth's meddling that put us in a situation where nothing seemed to be what it was. But when he touched me...when Eönwë, who I thought was Gary, touched me, I _knew_ it was right. It felt so right. I just knew that I belonged to him and that he belonged to me. Nothing else mattered."

There was a sparkle in her eyes and a flush on her cheeks that the watching Valar and Ilmare saw with utter relief. "_That _is the moment of true bonding Kim." She said quietly. "The moment when that mental link is forged between wife and husband"

Kim stared at her for a few moments. "So that is the moment of true marriage?" She said softly. "Then we were married from that point on according to your customs."

Ilmare nodded. "Yes. The Eldar have it down to a fine art, they are able to look at another and they know beyond shadow of a doubt whether they are meant for them, but even _they_ get it wrong sometimes. We Maia, less so. If we pair off, it is usually an unspoken thing in the beginning, much like you and Eönwë and it takes time for a decision to be made, sometimes it takes thousands of years counted in your time. Even then it might not be possible for a bonding to take place. Much depends on the will of the Valar whom we all serve. In Eönwë's and Arien's case, the claim on his time was very great by Lord Manwe, being the Herald carries many responsibilities. Unfortunately when Arien wanted him to be available, he was never able to be there for her and they drifted apart. Eönwë was really most fortunate in that he was in a position where he could indulge himself in the luxury of conducting a relationship with you in Arda Marred. There, he only had himself to answer to."

"Have you ever felt that for anyone?" Kim asked shyly.

Ilmare flushed bright red. "There is...well...there _is _someone, we feel something much more than friendship for each other, but we are each too busy. And I would speak but he is reserved, much more reserved than I am, I fear if I did speak he would run away."

"Is he younger than you?"

Ilmare looked surprised. "Younger? No...if you count age as mortal men do, then we are about the same age, but he has been through many trials in his existence in the service of the Valar and it has made him reserved. I think he has lost many people he was fond of and is afraid to go further with anyone else for fear of getting hurt or hurting them"

"It's a shame you guys don't have a shopping mall or something." Kim said. A comment seemingly completely out of context with the current subject matter.

"For what purpose would we need such a thing?" Ilmare's confusion at the reference with regard to the object of her affection was written all over her fair face.

"To have a girly chat of course. About men and stuff. _Without _all of the listening ears around." Kim grinned.

The Valar sat back, startled. Just when had this human wife of their Herald realised they were eavesdropping?

Ulmo laughed fit to bust. "I _like _her. She's no fool that little wife of Eönwë's. We've been...how do modern mortals say it...well and truly rumbled!"

Raguel, who had been sitting in on it all shook his head in disbelief and amusement. He agreed with Ulmo, they _had_ been well and truly rumbled. It would seem that the wife of Eönwë had learned a thing or two after all.

Ilmare looked at her doubtfully. "Well...there _is _a tavern down in Valmar, in the marketplace. I know that sometimes the others and even the Valar will occasionally go in there in fleshly form. It's called The Laughing Vala."

"Can you get meals there?" Kim asked eagerly. "Not that I am criticising, but I could really do with more than fruit, bread and wine as nice as it all tastes here. I'd love a nice cup of tea or a half a lager to be honest and a meat pie or something." Her face fell suddenly. "Oh, we probably need money or whatever you use for currency here."

Ilmare's face lightened and a look of pure mischief came into her eyes. "Oh I think we can manage something. We will shamelessly plunder Eönwë's credit with them. I know for a fact that he, Olorin and Manveru often go in there when they have a spare moment and I think that Nesta, one of Lady Yavanna's Maiar, goes in there regularly as well. She talks to the farmers who come to market with their goods. Rumour has it that she even flirted with one of them and was thinking of marriage citing Melian as an example. It caused quite a scandal some time back."

Kim snorted with laughter. "How long ago would that be?"

"Oh..about two hundred of your years I suppose." Ilmare said vaguely.

"Er...okay, and how do we get to this Laughing Vala place...inn or whatever it's called?" Ilmare grabbed her hand, Kim blinked and found herself on the outskirts of the city of Valmar with the Maia who grinned at her. "Of course, silly old me."

She noticed straightaway that the guards on the massive silver, pearl-strewn gates were Elves dressed in the livery of King Ingwe. Tall, at least seven foot, and straight they stood, with winged helms and long golden hair flowing under the helms. They wore bright silver mail, white cloaks and carried long shining spears. If they noticed two females suddenly materialise out of thin air, they gave no indication of it. The two women walked through the gates and Kim gazed up and around her in utter awe.

"Wow..." She said. "This is some place."

One of the guards turned slightly as she said it and gave her a slight smile. There was a look of wonder in his bright eyes at the sight of someone so obviously from the race of Men in the city of Valmar.

A tall brown haired Elf leading two horses in through the gate brushed past Kim who started a little and moved to one side with a muttered apology. He also stared at her in wonder and much curiosity, to such good effect that one of the horses trampled on a basket an ellith had put on the ground and the Elf got a real ear bashing from her. "Oh dear. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. They are obviously not used to seeing people like me here."

Ilmare tucked Kim's arm into her own. "Nonsense. They must just get used to it. After all, once Eönwë completes his task in Arda Marred, you will be living here. Look... there it is."

She pointed at a long, low whitewashed building which had a green wooden gate in the wall. The gate was open and Kim could see a number of people sitting at wooden tables eating and drinking and there was much merry laughter. There were rambling roses, yellow Jasmine and other flowers that she didn't recognise creeping all over the wall and the wooden trellises and their fragrance hung heavily in the air. The main door into what was the bar area or taproom was also green and above it hung a sign with a jolly looking man with golden hair and a huge smile painted on it.

It looked _perfect_.

"Some say that it is meant to be a likeness of Lord Tulkas, but I do not think they did him justice." Ilmare whispered in her ear. "As I said before, he and Eönwë also often drink here and eat. They enjoy the experience immensely although I am sure you know that we only need to eat when in fleshly form. I have no doubt that he will bring you and Allie here once you are living here."

"By the time _we _get here, she will be coming here of her own accord." Kim said in a mildly caustic tone.

They had just gone in through the main door and were standing hesitantly inside when an astounded voice suddenly broke in.

"_Lady Kim_? Is that truly you?"

She turned to find herself face to face with Melannen, Ingwe's younger son, who she and the others had rescued during the War of Wrath. Behind him stood a grinning Rion and the quiet, but also smiling Noldor, Noruthalion (2), both of whom she had met at the same time.

ooOoo

**A few hours later in Hampshire...**

She felt as though she was swimming upwards through murky dark water. Tendrils of icy cold tugged at her feet and tried to wind around her arms and her body; her lungs felt as though they were bursting and there was a fiery ball in her chest. Tears stung her eyes, but that didn't make sense because how would she feel tears if she was underwater.?

Was this death? She felt a massive panic as she contemplated an eternity spent drowning in such an horrific fashion and looked behind her. If she could only free herself of the grasping black fingers, but as fast as she kicked one away another looped itself around her and took its place.

A sob escaped her as she saw that there was a mass of dense shadow attached to the tendrils. One part of her brain, a small rational part, knew that in the darkness was a figure, the same figure that tried to suck the life out of her in that hotel room about a million years ago. At least it felt like a million years. And out of the black dense mass came a summons. She sobbed again and reached out her arms to the soft glow of light that she thought was the surface of the water. A surge of adrenalin flowed through her and with one last effort and massive kick she spiraled up to the surface and caught onto the slender, but very strong hand that was reaching out to her. As she did so she heard soft words.

"Im ap Elladan. Telin le thaed. Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan na ngalad."

She had no idea what the words meant, but the music of them flowed over and around her and she felt filled with a light...a light that instantly repelled the darkness following behind. She felt a momentary flash of rage from the entity that was trying to pull her back down and then her eyes were opening to see a most beautiful face leaning over her, a face framed with long dark hair and with kind, compassionate grey eyes.

"Oh god." She whispered. "Am I dead?"

ooOoo

"You had better come out of the trees instead of skulking in there." Maksim's voice dripped amused sarcasm. "But do not stray near the buildings otherwise the guardian will repel you, and not in a pleasant way."

A tall, brown haired, thin faced young man, clearly of Eastern European origins, stepped out from behind a tree in the Herald's garden and stood hesitantly just at the edge of the tree line. He stared curiously at the little blonde haired girl sitting quite near to Maksim, who was seated on a wooden garden bench. She was clearly doing her version of gardening, digging holes with a little trowel, planting something and then patting the earth down with her chubby hands. She looked up at him and gave him an enchanting smile. Despite not being used to children, he smiled back at her.

"What's your name?" She asked him.

He looked at Maksim who laughed and shook his head. "You'd better answer her, but be warned , once she starts asking questions it is a little difficult to get her to stop."

"My name is Ilir little lady." The other vampire put his hand over his heart and gave the child a courtly bow.

"I am called Allie. Are you Unca Max's friend?"

Ilir raised an eyebrow at Maksim. "We are more like very good acquaintances."

Allie stood up and examined her knees and then her hands. She went to Maksim and held them out for him to see. "They are very dirty now." She pouted charmingly at him.

Maksim brushed the dirt off the chubby little hands as best he could. "Yes they are." He said ruefully. "Lady Nerdanel will probably scold both of us."

She giggled and Maksim laughed with her. Ilir sat down on the bench beside him.

"They allow you to be alone with the little one?" He asked quietly. "Are they not afraid for her safety?"

Maksim let out a crack of laughter. "She is quite safe with me, I do not feed on children. But believe me, if she was not then she has plenty around to protect her and she is quite capable of protecting herself in any case."

"She is a creature of Light."

Maksim nodded. "But you are not here for such pleasantries are you?"

Ilir clenched his jaw. "No, I am come from Lord Kiril. I have a message for you from him. He knows of your inquiries and I am to say this to you... the Romanov, Petrovsky and Georghiou covens have not been heard of now for more than a month. Herumor gave us leave to go back to our strongholds, but we are not given permission to leave. Lord Kiril arranged my exit under gravely dangerous conditions, if he or I had been caught we would have been taken to Herumor. Those who are taken to him do not return and now it seems that three of our largest covens will also not return."

If it were possible Maksim's pale face had gone even paler. For moment he was utterly bereft of speech.

"Destroyed or imprisoned?" He managed to finally ask.

Ilir shrugged. "They were sent back to their strongholds like the rest of the covens, not allowed to hunt or leave, blood is delivered daily and we do not ask where it comes from. It is better not to know, but we are on borrowed time my friend. When I left our stronghold I travelled to the nearest one, the Georghiou coven. The great gates hung open and there were no guards, only the leaves drifting in the courtyard and through the rooms, empty of any kind of life undead or living. The vehicles were left abandoned in the garages. I slipped in and felt a fear there such as I have never felt before. It is not empty of evil Maksim." He shuddered violently. "There is something there, but what I do not know. The Georghiou's have gone. There was dust which may or may not have once been a coven member, it was difficult to tell. I left quickly and travelled here. It has taken me two weeks."

Maksim shivered and a shadow seemed to pass over the garden blotting out the crisp Autumn sun. Allie also looked up and waved a fat little hand at the clouds, to the amazement of Ilir but the apparent lack of surprise from Maksim, the sun immediately peeped back out from behind them and the little girl chuckled.

"We are being culled my friend. Herumor does not want us to exist nor does he want us to be part of his army." Maksim said softly and Ilir nodded.

"This is my thought also, Kiril and the others were still in existence two weeks ago, but I do not know if they are now and I dare not contact them." He hung his head.

"Do you have somewhere to go?" Maksim asked with a note of compassion in his voice.

Ilir nodded. "Yes, I have acquaintances in London and Aberdeen, I will go to either once I have left here. I have not made up my mind which one would be safer."

"Better to go to Aberdeen." Maksim advised. "London is not safe. I believe that Cosmin has also fallen foul of Herumor. We had arranged to meet at a hotel in London, but when I got there Herumor or one of his minions was waiting for me. There was no sign of Cosmin."

Ilir's face fell. "Cosmin was no threat to anyone, not even as a vampire."

"Indeed he wasn't" Agreed Maksim. "But he _was _trying to give me information and that was what sealed his death warrant."

Ilir stood up. "For what it is worth, I am saddened by the news, I think I must leave now, your angel friend and protector is known to Herumor and I do not wish to draw his attention to my presence by staying longer. You have the message and you will not see or hear from me again. I wish you well Maksim, but then you now come under the protection of the banner of Light, would that the rest of us had such a privilege. Fight well for us my friend."

"Do you need any money?" Maksim asked.

The other vampire smiled at him and shook his head. "No, Kiril made sure I had more than enough and my friends will look after me." He stood up and gave Allie a courtly bow. "Farewell Lady Allie, it has been a privilege to meet you."

Allie returned his smile with a sunny one of her own. "May the Valar go with you and bless your path."

Ilir's mouth dropped open at the adult phrasing popping out of this cherub's mouth. He gave Maksim a look of utter astonishment.

"Don't ask." Maksim grinned. "She is part angel and part child, three years old, going on thirty three, nothing she does surprises me any more."

"Then I bid you both farewell." Ilir said softly. Moments later he had blended with the trees which swallowed him up completely as though he had never been there to begin with.

ooOoo

(1) **A Singular Honour** – A reference to Chief Knowles being injured badly. His soul was taken to Mandos and left in the care of Lord Name while Olorin entered his physical body in order to heal it faster.

(2) **A Singular Honour **– Melannen was the Vanyarin elf, son of King Ingwe and brother of Ingwion a commander under Eönwë in the War of Wrath. He was captured by the orcs who travelled through the rift in time back to modern Middle-earth and rescued by Gary/Eönwë, Kim, Chief Knowles and Jim Moore. Rion, is a Vanyarin Elf who served with the Host of the Valar in the War of Wrath, as was Noruthalion, a Noldorin Elf who also served.


	46. Tabula Rasa

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Thanks for the reviews once again. In this chapter I do have to address the Grigori a little, since Eönwë and Kim will be meeting up with them at some stage and they will be involved in the battle to some extent, however the main thrust of the story is still with Eönwë, Kim, the Elves and the other humans. It would be silly to think that everything was developing in the world around the Grigori and they were set aside completely untouched by it all. It's their world too! It also provides a nice bridge to bring us to a point where we can switch from the point of view of Eönwë and the others in England and catch up with the happenings with Thranduil and the others in Moria.

"**ENOCH 10:11 **And the Lord said unto Michael: 'Go, bind Semjaza and his associates who have united themselves with women so as to have defiled themselves with them in all their uncleanness. And when their sons have slain one another, and they have seen the destruction of their beloved ones, bind them fast for seventy generations in the valleys of the earth, till the day of their judgment and of their consummation, till the judgment that is for ever and ever is consummated. In those days they shall be led off to the abyss of fire: and to the torment and the prison in which they shall be confined for ever' "

___**- **__** (The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament, R.H. Charles) **_

**Dark Power ****Arising**

**Chapter 46 -Tabula Rasa  
**

**The Headquarters of Grigori Enterprises, Vevey, Switzerland**

The head of Grigori Enterprises put the telephone receiver back on its cradle and tapped his long slender fingers thoughtfully on the desk. The only other occupant of the room, a tall, very imposing man with long silver blond hair tied back with a black ribbon and piercing ice blue eyes looked over at him with one silver eyebrow raised in query.

"Trouble?"

"What?" Joaquim de Salvo looked up in surprise at the question; he had entirely forgotten that Sariel was even there. "No..at least I don't _believe_ so."

Sariel sighed, once Joaquim got that look in his eyes, getting information out of him was akin to pulling teeth out without an anaesthetic. "Was that Seth?"

Joaquim looked blankly at him for a moment. "Seth? No...it was our...brother Ainur calling from England."

That made Sariel sit up. His eyes narrowed for a moment. "Eönwë?"

"Mmm..." Joaquim murmured in a distracted way that only escalated Sariel's impatience.

This was going to take a while. Sariel sat back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest. "And? What did he want?"

Joaquim took note of the mildly exasperated tone in Sariel's voice and grinned at him. "I think we must expect a visit soon, or at least as soon as his wife comes back from Valinor."

He stood up, went over to the door and rang a bell. Michel, his manservant and a servitor of the Grigori of longstanding would know exactly what was required of this summons and he did not disappoint. Almost as though he had been standing right outside the study door waiting with a refreshment trolley, there was a quiet knock at the door.

"Come Michel." Joaquim said softly.

Sariel waited with barely concealed impatience as the tall, white haired and austere Michel poured out coffee from a cafetiere for him and then tea from the bone china teapot for Joaquim. Both Grigori were creatures of habit; Sariel was a coffee person, strong, black and aromatic, flavoured with the cardamom in the Arabic way. Joaquim on the other hand was a coffee in the morning with tea in the afternoon sort of person.

Michel handed around a tray of delicate biscuits, the chef's best and favourites among every single Grigori in the household, Sariel took three and smiled engagingly at Michel's momentary frown of disapproval. Joaquim laughed softly and took one.

"Isn't it about time that you went and played with your son?" He asked slyly. "It must be near to nursery tea and bath time."

"Oh no you don't." Sariel growled back at him, scowling as furiously as only a fallen archangel could. "You don't get rid of me _that_ easily. Our little brother wishes to visit us I take it."

Joaquim sipped the tea and sat back in the armchair opposite the sofa Sariel was seated on. He closed his eyes blissfully for the moment. "Yes, he wishes to meet with us, it was bound to happen."

"Humph..." Sariel looked a little disgruntled at the idea. "I am not sure that I actually _want _to meet our favoured cousins from the West."

"Oh come now Sariel..._hardly_ favoured." Joaquim protested. "_We_ could have chosen to leave the Music and join Manwe, Varda and the others, but we chose to remain and do the bidding of the Source of all Power in other ways. We lived under the grace of the Source for a long time while our Valar brethren fought many fierce battles at the inception of this earth. They did not have it easy."

Sariel got up and went to the window. He stood staring out over the sculpted landscape of Vevey Chateau.

"I suppose not. Melkor was never easy, _always _discordant. If there was a note out of place in the Music you could pinpoint it at him in a mortal heartbeat. I knew their venture was in trouble even before they all took possession of Arda and _that _was why I did not choose to go. I like to choose my battles and the ground I fight them on very carefully." He turned to Joaquim, his face had lengthened and his blue eyes were filled with a lambent silver light. "Before we were chosen to come back here, we were given to believe that the Valar had _long _since handed over stewardship of this place...we were told that any remnant of life before our time had been quenched under the ice...this earth was a clean slate on which to write. And now...here we are preparing to fight an ancient evil from that time and not even of our making. _They._..Manwe and the others...should have called a halt to Melkor's antics millennia ago, instead what did they do? They slapped his wrist, told him he was a naughty boy and imprisoned the bugger in the Void! _Imprisoned _him! I would have bound him under the earth until the end of the bloody universe not just seventy generations of this planet as Michael did with our brethren."

"I imagine that Manwe and Eru thought it was sufficient to throw him into the Void. I am told that he is well guarded there. In any case it's hardly for us to second guess the Source." Joaquim said mildly. It had been his lot to endure these tirades from Sariel and a few of the others since they had been made aware of Eönwë's return to earth. "And we can hardly blame the child Eönwë for the lack of action by his superiors. Do you wish us to turn our back on him then?"

Sariel's expression softened somewhat and he sat back down.

"No of course not. This darkness may not be of our making, but it affects _all_ of us. I will, of course, do _whatever_ is in my power to help him, as will we all. So spake the Council at the meeting a few days ago. I voted for it then and will not go against the decision now." He said in a mildly sulky tone. He lifted his cup of coffee up to his lips and then pulled a face. "Gah...it's cold and disgusting."

It was Joaquim's turn to sigh as he poured the dregs of Sariel's coffee into a pot plant and poured him out a fresh hot cup.

"Well if you_ will_ insist on these little manic tirades every time someone mentions the Valar, you can expect that your coffee will get cold." He scolded.

Sariel pointed at the poor potted plant. "You're going to kill that plant if you keep doing that you know."

"Nonsense." Joaquim replied briskly. "Coffee grounds and tea leaves do it the world of good."

Sariel chuckled. "All I can say is that it's a good job you didn't end up down here doing Yavanna's job. I always liked her. Young and fresh, scent like flowers and growing things. How the hell did she end up with that gruff blacksmith anyway? It certainly wasn't his sweet talking that's for sure. Man of few words, our Aulë. He always struck me more as the 'hit them over the head with his club and drag them off to his cave' sort of suitor."

Joaquim immediately recognised Sariel's attempt to steer the conversation away from the proposed visit by Eönwë and prepared to cut it off stillborn. "Eönwë's wife Kim is away on a visit to Valinor..."

"How _very_ jolly for her..." Sariel murmured sotto voce. Joaquim ignored the interruption.

"I think that Kim would _definitely_ benefit from talking to Eve. There is nobody else with such a unique perspective on being married to one of the Ainur and I'm sure that Eve has _plenty_ of that, being married to you." Joaquim saw Sariel's mouth open in protest and ruthlessly cut him off. "She and Kim have much in common, she has a daughter with facets of personality and powers she cannot understand and Eve is going through much the same thing with your son. We can expect them within the next two weeks and I want you to be on your best behaviour with Eönwë _and _his wife." There was a note of warning in Joaquim's voice.

"You don't need to worry about me." Came Sariel's blithe response as he drank the rest of his coffee in one gulp and strode over to the door. It was indeed time for him to visit the nursery and his bond with his wife was clearly telling him to get his arse upstairs, tout de suite. "I will be charm personified; the _soul_ of good behaviour...a positive _angel._.." His voice floated out behind him as he left the study and took the stairs three at a time up to the nursery on the second floor where his wife and son were waiting.

Joaquim shook his head in mild disapproval and despair. If Eönwë was right in his assumptions then he would have to call an emergency council meeting within the hour which did not leave much time. It was good that so many of the council were currently resident at Vevey. At least he didn't have to go far to find them. He wished that Seth was there, he could always be depended on to be a strong, but calm and soothing influence in any gathering or emergency. He was struck with a sudden overwhelming desire to talk to Seth and picked up the phone. He hadn't had a report for the last day and it was a good excuse to talk to him.

Moments later he was connected to Moria.

ooOoo

**A few hours later ...**

Eve Barique was woken up abruptly by her husband at around four in the morning. She opened her eyes to find him bending over her, his silver hair unbound and his face wreathed in concern. He was dressed in the clothes normally used in the temple dedicated to the Source deep below the Chateau, a pair of loose fitting scarlet cotton trousers and a short robe made of the same material. The moment she saw that, she knew something was seriously wrong.

"What's wrong?" She jumped out of bed and shrugged her arms into the silk dressing gown Sariel was holding for her. "What's happened?" Her mouth suddenly went dry. "The baby..."

"...is fine." Sariel said firmly. "However the chateau is under attack and you must take him and join the others in the Lavender Room."

The Lavender Room was the name for a room that did indeed constantly smell of Lavender and was tastefully decorated in shades of light blue and lavender. It was a fairly large, comfortable sitting room with an open fire and its own small kitchen and bathroom, but most notably it was a room in the very middle of the house on the top floor and it had no windows. This was a deliberate act on behalf of the Grigori who wanted a safe room for their dependents and servitors in case of an attack. Ostensibly it had one way in and out, through two large polished wooden doors, however there was a secret escape route built into the room which allowed access to the roof. Only Joaquim, Sariel and the Kerubim who guarded the room when it was occupied knew how to activate this secret escape route.

Now Eve _knew_ beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was something _really _wrong. The Lavender Room had not been used since the days of the French Revolution. It was kept clean and regularly updated as the decades and centuries drew on, for instance it now had cable television and a music system installed, but it had not been needed as a refuge for a long time.

She followed Sariel along the corridor to the nursery, ignoring the two Kerubim, dressed in their traditional Peacock blue robes and flowing cloaks who fell in behind her. She tried not to be aware of the long shining swords that they carried unsheathed and their grim faces and tried to calm her breathing and her thudding heart.

The nursery nurse, a human servitor of longstanding, awaited them at the entrance. She held Eve and Sariel's six month old son in her arms. He was wrapped in a warm soft blanket and clutched a white fluffy rabbit with long floppy ears in his arm which he sleepily chewed and drooled on. He was far too young to detect the atmosphere of danger around him. Eve held her arms out for him, but Sariel forestalled her and took his son from the nurse, settling him firmly against his shoulder.

"Follow us." His tone was peremptory but the nurse seemed to take no affront. She had lived a long time in the grace and employ of the Grigori and she knew when something bad was happening. She simply slipped into place behind Eve and in front of the two Kerubim and followed silently.

They did not take the elevator to the top floor, instead they took the wide thickly carpeted stairs up through the house. Down below they could already hear the sound of chanting from deep in the bowels of the house and one clear heartbreakingly beautiful voice rising and falling above the rest. It would have been a lovely sound had it not been for the aura of dread that clung to the atmosphere. Eve's teeth started to chatter in her head with cold and fear and Sariel took her hand and squeezed it even as he securely held their son in his other arm.

"It will be fine my love." He said softly. "And you will be safe in the Lavender Room along with the others."

"Will you stay too?" There was a catch in Eve's voice that she cursed the moment she heard it. For god's sake she was a former police officer in the Metropolitan Police, she had _seen_ scary things that would have sent most mortals insane, not least since she had met Sariel and his people. Surely there could be nothing scarier than being kidnapped by a mad Grigori, and held awaiting sacrifice in a desolate valley in the highlands of Kurdistan?(1) She _hated _showing any sign of weakness in front of Sariel or _any_ of them for that matter.

Sariel did not answer her question, he didn't need to. She already knew what it would be.

They had reached the top floor now and stopped outside two large polished wooden doors. Two Kerubim already stood on guard on either side, hands clasped in front of them on the hilts of their long shining swords. She looked at these two creatures who were young Grigori men that she saw on a regular daily basis...people she said hello to and joked with. She had _never_ seen them like this.

Like the two Kerubim who had accompanied them upstairs, these two were also dressed in bright blue robes which were draped across them in a Grecian style leaving one shoulder and part of the chest bare. They wore cloaks of iridescent feathers and their long hair was neatly braided in a queue down their back and held back by a silver fillet. Their faces, normally friendly and wreathed in smiles whenever they saw Eve and her son, looked like they had been carved in alabaster and their features had lengthened into an almost serpent-like shape. They gave no sign that they had recognised her, their expressions were both solemn and fierce, the only sign of life was in their eyes which were bright and filled with a deadly silver light.

Looking at them Eve could well believe that warriors like these had stood guard at the gates of Eden, acting on the command of God in protection of the stronghold. Whoever tried to pass them would be in very great danger indeed.

At the sight of Sariel the two Kerubim came to attention and stood away from the doors which he then pushed open. He handed the baby to the nurse who took him and went inside, then he turned to his wife and clasped her hands in his own. He raised them both to his lips and kissed them.

"This is something to do with that dreadful creature Herumor isn't it?" She whispered.

Sariel nodded. "Yes, not content with mounting an attack on the household of the Herald of Lord Manwe, he has decided to test _our_ boundaries. It was to be expected. Eönwë warned Joaquim this afternoon when he called. He suspected that Herumor would want to test our defences. We were prepared thanks to him."

"You didn't say anything earlier at dinner." Eve chided him.

"We thought that keeping everything looking normal at least on the surface would be better." Sariel said gently. "We did not wish Herumor to know that we had received advance warning."

Eve sighed. "And Eönwë's household, are they all okay?"

"Yes they are, luckily they were able to weave a protection around the house and set a guardian in place in time."

Eve shook her head. "Thank god for that at least." She looked up hesitantly at her tall husband. "And _our_ guardians?"

His hands tightened over hers and he grinned at her. "On guard and ready to do battle, but we...me, Joaquim and the others...feel that we need to strengthen the protective barriers, hence the rituals in the temple."

"You won't have to call..." Her voice faltered but Sariel knew what she referred to.

"Not on this occasion." His voice was grim. "There is too much at risk, the Holy Hayyoth are _only_ called when mankind are in deadly danger and you more than any other human know the cost of calling them, but I _must_ join the others Eve and add my voice to the music." He drew her to him and they kissed, then he gently shoved her through the doors. "I will see you very soon when this is over."

She stood in the doorway, just inside the room and watched the doors close on the tall figure of her beloved husband, leaving her inside to wait the situation out.

ooOoo

**The Mines of Moria, Switzerland**

Elrond knew something was wrong the moment he saw Seth sitting, head in hands, at the small window of his trailer. Normally he wouldn't have intruded, but his Maia heritage was giving him very strong intuition that this was more than just administrative problems with the dig.

The former Lord of Imladris had been heading towards the catering trailer where everyone ate and where most people tended to congregate in the evening. The four Elves, Radagast, and Hal were no exception and Elrond had decided to knock on Seth's door to ask if he would care to join them in the evening meal. Tomorrow would be a busy day, they were meant to meet the leaders of the Dwarves who were currently living in Moria in the Second Hall, beside the large doors which led to Balin's Tomb. So far, only Professor Hallam and Seth from the leaders of dig knew that Moria was currently home to a long forgotten race. They had returned their young Dwarf friend to the Second Hall and he had gone back to his people accompanied by Celebrimbor and Glorfindel who had subsequently returned with an olive branch and the offer of a meeting to discuss joint co-operation in exploring the mines.

Elrond lifted his hand to knock on the trailer door and then hesitated slightly. Perhaps the Grigori just wished to be left alone, but that innate Maia sense that he had inherited from Melian through Luthien, her daughter, kept nagging at him. He sighed and lifted his hand to knock, but was forestalled when the trailer door abruptly opened and Seth stood in the doorway.

"Either knock or don't knock, but make up your mind which or we will _both _be late for dinner." He said with wry amusement. He gestured to the Elf Lord. "Come in."

Elrond stepped into the trailer. "I'm sorry, I _was _coming to ask if you would join us for the evening meal, but then I looked through the window and it seemed to me that you must have had bad news. I recognised the look. I too have had my fair share of bad news down through the millennia."

Seth smiled at him and the Elf Lord could see that he looked tired. "Vevey has come under attack from this Herumor in the early hours of this morning." He said simply and without preamble. "I was merely concerned for the safety of all."

Elrond's face blanched. "Oh no. Is everyone all right? What happened?"

"They are all well, thanks to Lord Eönwë who called Joaquim to introduce himself and to warn of the attack. It seems that he and his household also safely repelled an attack. I spoke to him a few minutes ago and he asked me to pass on to you all that everyone is safe and well."

Elrond jumped up in agitation. "I should go back to England... my wife and son..."

"They are fine Elrond." Seth now sounded amused and put a reassuring, but restraining hand on Elrond's shoulder. "Eönwë warned me you would say that and I am to pass on the message to say that no harm has or will come to anyone. Herumor is merely testing our defences, probing to see what chinks there are in our armour. Joaquim tells me that he got much more than he bargained for from both attacks. Guardians and protective barriers are now in place around both residences and our own shamans are including Eönwë's residence while weaving their own protections. I am sure that when we join Thranduil and the others they will already have received a call from your wife with this news and assuring you that all are well."

Elrond allowed himself to be mollified. "He is bold." He finally said. "To try and test us so openly."

"Indeed." Seth agreed. "It seems that his successful attack on the village in Devon and the British government's subsequent cover up of the true facts has emboldened him. It shows that his influence is growing, although not with the British Armed Forces apparently. The Ministry of Defence and Joint Chiefs of Staff are resisting blandishments and suggestions that they co-operate with the security services who are patently in Herumor's pockets. My people will now start to try and offset that by using their own considerable influence with governments."

Elrond shook his head. "I cannot see how... surely the Military will have to give in if the security services convince the government to co-operate with Herumor?"

Seth smiled enigmatically. "There are more ways to kill a cat than to strangle it with cream my friend. Suffice to say that Grigori Enterprises is very influential in financial and corporate areas. We hold the finances of many world governments including that of Great Britain in our hands." He clapped a hand on Elrond's shoulder. "And now it is even more important that whatever is here in the depths of Moria should not be allowed to fall into Herumor's hands and to that end a squad of Kerubim are being dispatched here to help us guard the dig and also to help deal with whatever we may find."

"That...that's good news." Elrond said slowly. "But are they not needed to guard your headquarters?"

Seth laughed, opened the door and gestured for Elrond to precede him. "There are many of us Elrond. There are Grigori all over the world. We have more than one headquarters although the others work in secrecy. There is a branch in the Hamptons which deals with North America including Canada, there is one in Alexandria on the coast of Egypt which deals with Africa and the Indian continents. Each have a contingent or two of Kerubim. We have had many millennia to grow as a group. Sending half a dozen of them here will hardly make a dent in their ranks. Shall we join the others for dinner?"

He led a now very confused Elrond to the dining trailer where he spent the next two hours trying to explain to him the ins and outs of the modern world economy.

ooOoo

(1) From **The Serpent and the Peacock **, an original full length novel by me, as yet unpublished. All of the Grigori characters and Eve are from this book and the comment refers to the climax of the story in which Sariel and the others, along with other mortals strive to rescue Eve who is about to be sacrificed in an ancient soul transference ritual in the Valley of Fire, the place where the fallen angels were condemned and their families executed by the Seraphim on the order of Michael.


	47. Hope Springs Eternal

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Many apologies for the delay in posting this, but the fan on my CPU failed and I have been without a computer. The new one finally came and I fitted it. All seems to be well now. Then my birthday got in the way and I headed off to celebrate with a dear friend for a couple of days.

In this chapter I feel compelled to address the issues of the differences between Grigori and the Valar and Maiar. By their very nature, the Grigori appear much darker and perhaps a great deal more like avenging angel types than their Valar/Maiar cousins. Their task was a great deal more 'hands on' than that of the Valar when they took up the stewardship of Arda.

The Valar indicated many times by their actions (and sometimes lack thereof) over Arda that their main concern, once Melkor had tainted the lands of Middle-earth, was to bring the Firstborn, the children who they held dearest to their hearts and delighted in, over to safety in the Blessed Realm. It's not a huge stretch to think that once they considered this done, they may well have washed their hands of Middle-earth utterly and handed it over to the race of Men who they considered were well and truly tainted anyway.

The Grigori on the other hand, were sent down by God to an earth which, theoretically at least and according to my story, had just been wiped of living things by a few centuries of temperatures well below freezing and glaciers covering much of the earth. They were given to understand that the emerging race of Mankind were primitive and that nothing of before had remained. They weren't given the stewardship of earth; their remit was to watch over emerging primitive man and guide where best they could. They kept to themselves in their own stronghold in the mountains and came down to teach and trade with the people of the plains, therefore unlike the Valar and most of the Maiar they had direct face to face contact with the race of Men on a regular basis.

They had to be prepared to protect the secrets they carried within them and their stronghold and were fierce warriors as well as being endowed with the mysteries of the sciences, medicine etc. Mysteries which, in part but _not_ in whole, they were constrained by God to pass on to mankind. It was _because_ of these constraints that Semjaza and his brethren broke away, because they believed that Mankind needed _all _the knowledge, not just the small portion thought sufficient for them to prosper.

This is not to say that the Valar and the Maiar could not be fierce or dark if they needed to be, but their part in the development of earth was done from very far away in the relative safety of the Blessed Realm and apart from the first war against Melkor and the War of Wrath and the sending of the Istari to help with the fight against Sauron, they did not interact directly with the people of Middle-earth and their demeanour for the most part was quite benevolent when they did interact.

Which brings me to Elrond, who, so far, has not really exhibited anything special as far as his Maiar blood is concerned. Granted it is watered down quite a bit and the Elven side seems to be most prominent, but that doesn't mean that it isn't there and who knows how it might manifest itself? Especially under the influence of the Grigori in the form of Seth.

"Ye have spilled the blood of your kindred unrighteously and have stained the land of Aman. For blood ye shall render blood, and beyond Aman ye shall dwell in Death's shadow. For though Eru appointed to you to die not in Eä, and no sickness may assail you, yet slain ye may be, and slain ye shall be: by weapon and by torment and by grief; and your houseless spirits shall come then to Mandos. There long shall ye abide and yearn for your bodies, and find little pity though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you. And those that endure in Middle-earth and come not to Mandos shall grow weary of the world as with a great burden, and shall wane, and become as shadows of regret before the younger race that cometh after. The Valar have spoken. "

_**The Curse of the Noldor (second part), The Silmarillion **_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 47 - Hope Springs Eternal  
**

**The First Hall of Moria, Switzerland**

Thranduil checked his equipment over and then bent down to secure the laces of the high leather boots. It wasn't that Elves needed to wear _anything _heavy on their feet no matter what the terrain or the weather for that matter, but Seth insisted that they were all equipped the same. Thranduil grinned wryly to himself as he watched Elrond struggle with the straps on his webbing and then fling the whole kit and kaboodle down on the ground in sheer disgust. He sauntered over to him.

"Need a hand?" His offer of help was accompanied by a lift of one golden eyebrow and a quirk of his beautifully moulded mouth.

"Bah..." Elrond scowled ferociously at the errant collection of straps and compartments. "Why do we need this...this torture implement anyway? It's like being secured in a corset."

Thranduil couldn't suppress the gurgle of laughter that rose to his lips, but he offset it by allowing that perfect eyebrow to climb even higher on his high white forehead until it disappeared entirely under the thick golden cow-lick where it was joined by the other eyebrow.

"And what, my Lord Elrond, would _you _know about wearing women's corsetry?" He poked the disgruntled Peredhil in his ribs and was rewarded by the Eyebrows of Doom, as his son Legolas and Elrond's twins had nicknamed the Master of Imladris's famous scowl. "Is there something perhaps you haven't told any of us? Perhaps some fetish from back in the human part of your bloodline? Or maybe it's the Maiar part. Remind me to check with Lady Kim to see if maybe the Maiar indulge in a bit of cross-dressing in their spare time."

Elrond opened his mouth to blister Thranduil with a reply but was forestalled by Radagast striding up to them trailing his webbing behind him and with his staff tucked under his arm. His grey brows were drawn together in an irritable frown.

"There are _no_ cross-dressing Maiar to my knowledge my Lord Thranduil." He said sternly, despite there being the tiniest gleam of a twinkle in his deep set brown eyes at the idea of Olorin and the others in a Valinorean version of the Rocky Horror Picture Show complete with basques, fishnets and suspenders. "Although we do look _very_ well in flowing robes of any kind. It comes with the job description." He stopped dead and yanked the webbing free from where it had been caught on a sharp broken stone. "Can someone _please _help me put this ridiculous thing together?"

Seth finished off checking his weapon from the armourer and held a hand out for the offending article. "Here, let me sort it for you."

Thranduil laughed and turned back to Elrond who was holding out his webbing to Thranduil with a innocent and toothy smile on his face.

"And... I have to help you... because?" The Elvenking put both hands on his slender hips and tried to look both haughty _and _disinterested; a look that was belied by the laughter in his voice and eyes.

"Because if you don't I will tell Glorfindel that it was _you_ who hid his most favourite dagger...the gift from Finderato's Adar and the one he brought with him from Valinor, and _not_ Legolas and the twins." Elrond's face wore a beatific and strangely smug smile. "And you _know_ that he has never forgotten that incident, even after I gave the dagger back to him when he arrived in Alqualonde. He has threatened a dire fate to anyone who touches it."

"You _wouldn't._.." Thranduil looked dismayed. He snatched the webbing from Elrond with a disgusted snort and started to pull it all together. "Yes you would, you...you _Noldor _you!"

As he expertly manipulated the equipment, pulling out a tab here and inserting it into a buckle, then pulling it straight until it actually looked like an article someone could actually wear rather than a mangled jumble of straps and pockets, he looked up and saw that Elrond was now chatting animatedly with Seth who had, by this time, sorted Radagast out. There was a friendship developing between those two, Thranduil realised as he handed the webbing to Elrond who took it with a smile of thanks, and it had been developing for a few days. His eyes narrowed as he observed them, so different and yet...also so very alike. Why had he not noticed before that the same aura Seth wore also clung to the Peredhil?

And why was he so surprised to see it at all?

Thranduil realised that he really hadn't paid all that much attention to Elrond's background before. In all the millennia they had known each other, Thranduil had only ever seen the Elven side of him because it was by far the most prominent, at least physically. Certainly his physical form clearly showed a sturdiness that was generally missing in most of the Eldar; a sturdiness normally associated with the race of Men, but for the most part he was of the Eldar. The only Elf Thranduil could remember who had a similar sturdy build to match Elrond's had been Gil-galad and nobody had known where that came from.

In any case Thranduil knew from observation that Elrond had much more hair on the parts of him where most of the Eldar, even the dark haired among them, were remarkably hairless. Elves didn't, by and large, have any kind of embarrassment at the naked form and the bath house both at his stronghold and at Imladris had been communal. It would have been very difficult _not_ to see that Elrond had more hair, fine though it was. It fanned over his lower abdomen and down to his groin and it was also thicker under his arms.

His facial features were also slightly heavier than the average Eldar, even heavier than those of his children whose bloodline from the Secondborn was even more diluted than their father's because of Celebrian's Elven genes added to the mix.

Yet it wasn't that which drew Thranduil's attention anew to his friend's differences. It was something else...a light in the eye or the hint of an aura which did that. This difference had only really been highlighted by Seth's presence, almost as if the Grigori was unconsciously encouraging that part of Elrond which was completely alien to his human and Elven blood.

The Elvenking's keen gaze was piercing as he watched Peredhil and Grigori interact and he realised that there was much about Elrond that had not been tapped. He was like an iceberg with only a third showing above water and how many times had Celebrian been exasperated by some action or endeavour of her husband's because she simply couldn't understand how he had reached the conclusion that he should be doing whatever he was doing? Thranduil's own wife had spoken of Celebrian sometimes mentioning to her that there were times that she did not understand her husband at all. They had simply put it down to his human blood, never once even suggesting that it might be the Maiar in him.

Why had it not been noticeable before? In all of the interaction between Eönwë and Elrond, Thranduil had not had these thoughts. Did it come down to the differences between Maiar and Grigori? Seth was a darker more forceful version of Eönwë, who was generally of a more gentle, comforting, yet powerful demeanour. Although now Thranduil thought about it, he had not actually ever _seen _Eönwë in the full flow of battle. The only time he had been with the Maia in a fight was in Marseilles against the Lycans and Thranduil had been far too busy to notice whether he was dark and fierce or not. He had, of course, heard many tales of the War of Wrath from his father and from others who had been there that the Maiar had proved themselves to be fierce warriors, unstinting in battle and giving no quarter to the enemy.

All he now knew for certain was that there was much about the Valar, Maiar, and now the Grigori, that none of them, not even the Vanyar who lived in bliss among the Valar on the slopes of Taniquetil, knew. Maybe it was because he had never felt the slightest desire to live in the Blessed Realm that he could now see that there could well be a darker underside to those bright beings under whose grace most of the Eldar lived. Or was it that Seth's presence, his similarities _and _differences from the Ainur in the Blessed Realm, merely highlighted it all.

And yet he was not the only one who had noticed this. Despite Glorfindel's apparent easy acquaintance with beings like Lord Namo, Lord Irmo and Eönwë, there was still a reservedness in him about them and Thranduil had caught him watching Elrond and Seth more than once in the past few days with his fair brows drawn together in a thoughtful frown, whether in concern or just surprise Thranduil wasn't sure. With Glorfindel it was difficult to say.

The Elvenking moved forward in the queue and accepted his weapon from the Unit Armourer, a dour Scotsman and certainly no Grigori. He had spent most of his life in the service of Queen and country in the British Army as a REME Armourer (1)and Thranduil admired his stoic businesslike demeanour even when he was faced with beautiful Elves and Angelic Warriors. The fact that Thranduil had absolutely no idea what the man was saying when he opened his mouth because his Scottish highland brogue was so thick you could have cut it with a knife did not detract from the Elvenking instantly taking to him.

The armourer cocked the weapon and pointed it so that Thranduil could see there were no rounds in the breech, then he released the mechanism and clicked on the safety with a very businesslike metallic crunch before handing it to Thranduil with a completely unintelligible comment. Thranduil grinned at him and flipped off a salute which made the man laugh before he moved onto Glorfindel whose brows were practically meeting in the middle giving him a golden unibrow as he desperately tried to understand the guttural speech the Scotsman was rapidly directing at him.

Thranduil sat down on some sandbags and started to load up his magazine with the box of rounds collected from the man in charge of ammunition. Glorfindel stomped over to him and also sat down.

"Do you actually _understand_ what that man is talking about or are you just pretending to?" He whispered to Thranduil who chuckled.

"Of course not. I just nod or smile and give him a thumb's up every now and again or a salute." Thranduil shrugged. "Either I just hit on the right thing to do every time or he's thinking that I am the dumbest dumbass in the entire galaxy. For all I know he could be telling me that my father had syphilis and my mother was ugly and slept with a camel."

A crack of laughter erupted from Glorfindel at this. "Oh thank the Valar!" He said in relief. "I have been nodding and smiling like a lunatic at _everything_ he says, only he doesn't smile or laugh at me when I do it the way he does with you. Sometimes I have this unnerving feeling that he has said something _really_ important about this weapon that I _really_ need to know before I use it only I can't understand a single thing he's said. I am not sure what I would do if I had to actually fire it."

"You fired the other guns that we had." Thranduil responded absently as he pressed the final cartridge into the magazine. He snapped one of the magazines onto the weapon and checked the safety, then he slipped the rest into his webbing pockets.

Glorfindel watched him with a slight look of distress on his face. "See? You are completely comfortable with these things and yes, I _did_ fire the handguns, but these are different, they are weapons of rapid death and mass destruction. They make me very nervous. How is it that you are not nervous around them? Elrond hates them. He says they have no grace or beauty and I have to agree with him there."

Thranduil caressed the cold metal of the automatic weapon and a small smile of reminiscence curled his lips upwards. He wondered what Glorfindel and Elrond would think if they knew about all the wars he had become involved in once he had left the woodland realm to the tender mercies of the race of Men.

Men's wars; he wondered how many Elves would understand the urge for power that drove men to fight and kill each other in increasingly horrific ways. Not many, since Elves generally fought because they had to and not because they wanted to. Peace came easier to them than war. Man's inhumanity to man for gain and power was a concept that very few of them would understand, and those who did understand were either houseless spirits who had not answered the call of Mandos, most of whom were long since faded, or kicking their heels under the care of the Lord of Mandos. Maglor would understand about them of course, because of who he was, even Celeborn possibly since he had stayed for a while before finally giving in and sailing West, and Eönwë of a certainty, given that he had seen action in Iraq and Afghanistan when he was Major Gary Matthews.

In his time in Arda Thranduil had seen weapons evolve from things of great mystical beauty and yet still lethal, to weapons capable of hideous swift destruction and yet... he fingered the weapon gently, running his hand across the stock and the barrel... they _still _had a certain beauty to them, not a mystical beauty, but definitely a more workmanlike beauty.

He sighed, at the end of the day no matter what they looked like, no matter how lovely, whether utilitarian cold grey metal or shining steel and silver with jewels, delicate runes and carvings set into them, they _all_ still dealt a bloody death to bone and flesh and he had seen too much of it down through the millennia..._far_ too much.

However he was not willing to revisit that part of his life at this moment. Not yet. His eyes strayed to Elrond again. His face was alight as he was describing something to Seth, whose blue eyes shone with mirth. The Grigori threw his head back at one point and roared with laughter and Radagast's brown eyes gleamed with amusement. There it was again...that nameless _something_...that... Thranduil shook his head. The phrase 'peas in a pod' flashed through his mind but he dismissed it.

"His friendship with Seth is growing stronger." Glorfindel spoke quietly and Thranduil nodded without saying anything. "It concerns you greatly."

"It's nothing." Thranduil finally said gruffly, still not taking his eyes off Elrond.

Glorfindel's eyes followed Thranduil's gaze and his clear, bright eyes missed nothing. "Perhaps..."

Thranduil clapped a reassuring hand on his shoulder and then hefted his weapon. "We shall see. In the meantime, let's go and meet and make nice with some dwarves..." He groaned theatrically. "And I would _never, _in a million years have believed myself capable of uttering such a phrase willingly."

Glorfindel's golden laughter rang out as he watched Thranduil march up to his usual place at Seth's side. He made some comment that made both of them laugh uproariously and the patrol headed out across the First Hall. Elrond fell back and fell in at the Balrog Slayer's side.

"What is wrong with Thranduil?" He asked softly.

"I would l_ove_ to tell you, but the list is very long and I don't think we will have enough time." Glorfindel quipped with a completely straight face.

"Hmm.." Elrond cast a dark look at his friend. "Did I ever tell you that I find you _very _annoying sometimes? Almost as annoying as Thranduil."

He struggled to keep a severe expression on his face, but at the look of subdued merriment in his companion's eyes he burst out laughing and was joined after a second by Glorfindel hooting like a demented owl.

Their bright laughter lightened up the dark halls of Moria for a moment, but it also echoed back at them a thousandfold, almost mockingly and Elrond felt a frisson of unease. This was a dark place no matter how many lights one strung up and no matter how bright they might be. There were dark recesses in this place that gave shelter to things no living being had seen or ought to see. He cast a look back at the First Hall diminishing into the gloom behind them and turned his gaze to the light pooled from their torches. Somehow there was more comfort from that. Celebrimbor had already gone ahead to meet their Naugrim friends, his knowledge of Moria from old lending speed and certainty to his feet and they would be waiting and then...perhaps between them they could bring the light to this place that it had in times gone by in Durin's day.

But try as he might, he could not shift the feeling that other, less friendly, eyes watched them as they moved to their assignation with the Naugrim currently resident in Moria.

ooOoo

**The Twenty-First Hall of Moria**

"There they are." Seth halted the group briefly and nodded towards the glow of a small fire spilling a muted light across the dark, debris-strewn ground.

Those of the race of men who comprised the patrol could only see the glow, but the Grigori, Maia and the Eldar present could actually make out the forms of those waiting to meet them. In addition, the faint glow that emanated from Celebrimbor almost lit up the area like daylight for those with keen eyes that could see it.

Celebrimbor also saw them approaching. He jumped up from his seat on a rock where he had been talking to an older Naugrim with the typical rounded belly of the Dwarven race, but whose dark brown beard was shot through with silver streaks. Thranduil assumed that this must be the leader of the Gilmalk clan given the intricate braiding of his beard and the various beads and small ornaments woven into it. His beard was also quite long, just touching the ground and his dress indicated his position in the society, as did the richness of the tooled leather belt and the ornate mithril buckle. The others were, of course, similarly dressed, but not quite as spectacularly as their leader.

Even if the Elvenking had _not_ recognised the hierarchical strata of the Naugrim pecking order from old, he would have known who this Dwarf was by young Arras's deferential attitude to him. The young red-haired Naugrim was obviously starstruck by the fact that he was allowed to be present in the company of the elders and his leader for this auspicious meeting. However when he saw the tall, elegant form of his now best friend, the Elf from the elder days, rise up and gaze into the gloom, he also stood, as did the others. The Naugrim leader, however, remained seated, although he drew himself up straight in preparation for this meeting.

If the truth were known, he had been quietly impressed with Celebrimbor, especially after all the old tales of strife between Dwarf and Elf-kind which had been handed down through the millennia. There certainly seemed to be a natural enmity between the races of the Elves and the Dwarves even though the Dwarves of modern times had never even met an Elf and it had long been assumed that none of them ever would meet one since they were all supposed to have sailed West.

Celebrimbor had been a good choice of Seth's to send since he was one that _was_ known to have been a friend of the Naugrim and indeed not only Narvi's doors were graced with the Elven smith's fine work. There had been many other examples of Celebrimbor's influence throughout Moria. He was the nearest thing to Dwarf-friend that Naugrim history acknowledged. It had also helped that he spoke Khuzdul, a language which, thankfully, had not altered very much down through the millennia, probably due to the fact that the Naugrim had kept themselves out of sight of the race of Men and had not been influenced by modern speech.

The other advantage of course, was that of Seth and Radagast being part of the meet and greet group. Both of them were higher beings who came from the mystical undying lands in the West where dwelt Mahal. That alone sent a shiver up the Naugrim leader's spine. Perhaps they had _actually_ spoken with Mahal! Even if not recently, perhaps in the fairly recent past.

All in all, these were dangerous, but exciting times. Granted the main group from the outside world who were currently tapping and digging in the First Hall of Moria were from the race of Men, but Celebrimbor had assured him that they were people who were greatly respectful of such things and only wanted knowledge of a race that had existed for centuries almost beyond count. The Naugrim leader felt a faint hope growing that perhaps these people could bring a light to the dark places of Moria and who better to do that than beings like the Elves who were made of light themselves?

The Dwarves of the Gilmalk clan had long been aware that there were rustlings in the deeps of Moria; that the Silvertine Lodes held dangers that none of them had the courage to face for the fear of disturbing something or perhaps even several somethings that would be better left well alone. Down past the Silvertine in the lower levels of Moria stood the area called the Waterworks, where the great water-wheels had creaked and groaned around, firing up the many powerhouses which created the power from the water itself around a huge aqueduct system to run the massive machinery which also controlled the huge mirrors that the Naugrim of old had lit their underground home with and which provided a light that was so powerful, they could even grow their own food quite successfully under it.

The mirrors no longer worked and neither did the machinery that had provided power and light throughout the city and the mines and only one small expedition had dared to face the long journey down there to see what might have been wrong and to check out whether, if possible, it could be fixed. Of that small expedition which had consisted of six of the clan, two who were good at mechanical matters and four guards, only three had returned, terrified out of their wits and babbling. Once calm the survivors had recounted hair-raising tales of some huge, hideous creature with many long arms that had risen from the depths of the waters and swept their fellows off, never to be seen again. They had spoken of being quite overcme by a feeling of black fear and despair which had left them crouched and shaking with an ague that even months later had not completely worn off.

No doubt Aragorn and the Fellowship would have known immediately what that creature was, although the notion that it was the _same_ creature might have been a little hard to swallow, a descendant perhaps, that had slunk down into the deeps to hide even as the ice covered the earth. Still the Gilmalk clan then and there decided that no more expeditions would be sent. There simply weren't enough of the Dwarves to fight anything that had spawned from the evil of the Elder Days. So instead they made their home in the Twenty-First Hall in the upper levels of Moria surrounded by dark passages with slowly crumbling walls and decaying splendour; with rooms and rooms, galleries, palaces now either strewn with rubble and overrun with the rodent population and massive, once splendid, carved stone halls with fireplaces that were large and cavernous enough to fit the whole of the Gilmalk clan in comfortably.

The _fact_ was that Khazad'dum was a massive sprawling city underground. The _trouble_ was that most of these rooms, galleries, palaces and halls were largely unexplored. Many had been home to the rabble of goblins and orcs during the Third Age after the Dwarves were driven away. The mines had been left undisturbed for the most part, only certain areas down in the deeps had been used to supply metal for the Dark Lord of the time, he whose name was Sauron. The Redhorn Lodes themselves, almost, but not quite, at the deepest point of Moria, had been mined during that time, but even the orc kind and goblin kind had not wished to venture further down.

Recently there had been some unexplained disturbances in the mines. The Naugrim guard patrols had reported seeing shadows flitting through in the fitful light given out by the crystal lanterns. There had also been slithering, slipping noises, as though small stones and rubble were being disturbed by the passage of something, or someone, moving quickly so as not to be readily seen except as phantoms out of the corner of an eye.

Even _more_ disturbing had been the fact that the braziers which were placed at intervals around the massive Twenty-First Hall and which were lit all the time, had sometimes been found doused, as though deliberately done by person or persons unknown. None of the Naugrim themselves would have done it and none of the patrols had, as yet, caught anyone or anything else doing it. Yet one or two and sometimes even three would be found unlit.

The elders had come to conclusion that there must be others living in Moria; that perhaps they had _always _been there living in the deeps and that the recent attempts at exploration had disturbed them. Perhaps it was just curiosity that drew them to the upper levels of Moria, but it could not be ruled out that their intent was a little more sinister than just curiosity.

Whichever was the case, the elders had felt a small amount of relief when the outsiders broke through into the First Hall, and even _more_ relief when young Arras had come back with the Elf and told them of the kindness of the Men, the higher beings and the Elves towards him.

At last, after long years of living in virtual darkness and feeling alone among a modern race of Men, they felt hope.

The leader of the clan watched as the lights drew closer and was gratified that the first sight he had of the outsiders was of a tall beautiful man with eyes filled with silver lights and with the aura of Angels about him and a tall regal looking Elf with brilliant green eyes and a bright golden mane of hair.

Orgrim of the Gilmalk clan stood up, straightened his shoulders and puffed out his broad chest. He placed his thumbs in the rich leather and mithril belt and waited for them to approach. These newcomers, higher beings or not, would not find him begging for help, even if he _did_ know how badly he needed it.

ooOoo

(1) **REME**, acronym for the Royal Mechanical and Electrical Engineers, a Corps in the British Army. Often jokingly referred to by the Royal Engineers and the rest of the military by the less complimentary acronym of Real Engineering Made Easy.


	48. Delving into the Deeps

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: **Thanks again for the reviews, those of you who took the time to do that have my greatest appreciation. It's not always easy to find time to sit and comment on a story in this busy life we all have, so thank you again.

We are staying with Moria for a little while, to allow Eönwë and his troops to regroup and to give Kim time to explore Valinor and make her presence felt there. I am going to continue with the fascinating dynamic between the tight knit group of Thranduil, Elrond and Glorfindel...our Three Musketeers so to speak. However as the Three Musketeers did become the Four, there is a current opening for yet another poor soul to fall prey to our hardy trio. Will it be Seth? Or will it be Celebrimbor? Who knows. What I do know is that Moria is very large and it will take some time for our merry band of explorers to travel around it, even with the Dwarves who at least know the upper levels fairly well.

And of course...they are _not_ alone. Herumor needs more 'Big Bads' in his army and where better to find them than in a place like Moria which has lain relatively undisturbed for thousands of years? Where indeed.

In this tale Mordor has been levelled and is no longer a place deserted by life, filled with fire and rocks. Sauron wouldn't even recognise the place these days. I certainly couldn't see him appreciating the dark thick forests and meadows that occupy his former place of power in modern times. Nor perhaps the towns and villages that have sprung up like mushrooms.

The Tower of Dol Guldur was, of course, pulled down by Galadriel and never rose again. Minas Morgul was never transformed back into Minas Ithil. Too many dark deeds had been done there and the evil had sunk into the very stones. It was levelled on the orders of King Elessar and the ground was left empty, since nothing would grow on the spot where the city had been. The strange noisome white blossoms which subsequently grew all over the area overpowered the senses with a smell like rotted meat.

There is only Moria, its Deeps and its many dark secrets left. I have a feeling our hapless heroes will find lots of things have 'developed' there in the intervening millennia. Things that would be only _too_ pleased to be let loose on an unsuspecting modern world.

Oh I am a bad, _bad_ girl...

"_The world was young, the mountains green,  
No stain yet on the Moon was seen,  
No words were laid on stream or stone  
When Durin woke and walked alone.  
He named the nameless hills and dells;  
He drank from yet untasted wells;  
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere  
And saw a crown of stars appear;  
As gems upon a silver thread;  
Above the shadow of his head._

_The world is grey, the mountains old,  
The forge's fire is ashen-cold'  
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:  
The darkness dwells in Durin's halls'  
The shadow lies upon his tomb  
In Moria, in Khazad-dûm.  
But still the sunken stars appear  
In dark and windless Mirrormere;  
There lies his crown in water deep,  
Till Durin wakes again from his sleep._ "

_**J R R Tolkien, Lord of the Rings**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 48 – Delving into the Deeps**

**The Second Hall of Moria, Switzerland**

Celebrimbor stopped and dropped to one knee swiftly. He had no cloak of Lothlorien to hide his presence and could only hope that the modern military version of camouflage would suffice to keep him undetected.

It wasn't so much that he had actually _seen_ anything moving across the boulder and building rubble-strewn area that stretched from one side of the massive, cavernous Second Hall to the other, it was more than he _sensed _something or someone was there. He remained so still that indeed it would have been well nigh impossible for any normal human to detect him on movement or breathing alone. He rapidly assessed his options.

To his right were the stairs leading up to the corridor that Arras, only a couple of days earlier, had made for as he tried to get a better view of the strange humans from above. Celebrimbor knew from memory that this particular corridor _eventually_ led up to the Twenty-First Hall coming from the east. This huge hall with it's many columns and rooms off the main area had many entrances or exits, depending on whether you were coming or going.

He frowned as he tried to remember which entrance went where. If one stood faced towards the Dimrill Dale, to the north of the Hall and off to the right there was a small corridor that led to the Chamber of Mazarbul, otherwise known as the Chamber of Records where the Fellowship had faced the Cave Troll and the goblins before fleeing down the length of the corridor desperately looking for a way out.

The lore-masters of Khazad-dum were revered for their detailed record-keeping, though much of their old knowledge vanished when the Balrog awoke and the goblins of the Misty Mountains flooded into Moria's halls. One of the chief repositories of dwarf-lore was the Chamber of Mazarbul, a hall of records located on the Seventh Level, just north of the vast Twenty-first Hall. A familiar place for Celebrimbor in the Elder Days, since he had done a great deal of work on the chamber alongside the Dwarves when it was first being built.

In later years, when Balin of the Lonely Mountain and his company entered Moria and attempted to retake their home of old, the Chamber of Mazarbul became a shelter for them, and served as their last bastion when their efforts failed. The Chamber became Balin's tomb, and the last record of his Company lay there with him, awaiting the arrival of those who might share the tale of his fate with his kindred in Erebor.

A fitting place for the tomb of Balin, Celebrimbor thought quietly to himself and apparently the place of choice for a stand, since the Fellowship, like Balin and his group, had _also _stood their ground in there before fleeing down the corridor that led to the great doors which usually stood open and which led into the Second Hall and thence to Durin's Bridge.

The west entrance into the Twenty-first Hall was the one that led from the wide road through the city which was simply called Durin's Way and which ultimately led to Durin's Great Hall. The south entrance or exit, depending on which way you were travelling, led to the road that passed to the Great Delving to the west and Nud Melek, which was the Khuzdul name for the area in which the Second Hall where Celebrimbor now crouched was located, to the east.

Once again he heard that faint slithering.

Celebrimbor set his jaw and gazed into the gloom-shrouded Second Hall. This hall was huge, there was no doubt of that. Straight across from him, where the slithering had come from was another exit. Once through that exit there were only two ways to travel. To the right was the road down to the Redhorn Lodes, where the main mines were and which led to the Flaming Deeps, where, he suspected, the Balrog had awoken. It was a large rocky basin deep underground surrounded by what looked like mountains, but which were in fact the actual _roots_ of the mountain ranges that soared above ground. The caverns that held the Lodes were so vast that one could imagine that one was outside in a world where the sky was the same rusty red colour of the rocks and ground one stood upon.

The road that went straight down eventually ended up in the Foundations of Stone, one of the deepest parts of Moria. Celebrimbor had been there, but it was a place filled with creatures that had never seen daylight; cave-claws, creatures who were blind but could sense the presence of another creature in seconds, grodbogs, which were insect-like creatures; a sort of cross between a grasshopper and a cockroach, crawlers and spiders...not as big as Ungoliant, but not tiny little house spiders either. Some had a bite that paralysed instantly, others spat their poison long distances. Celebrimbor had absolutely no reason to believe that the food chain down there had altered in the least.

The east entrance and exit in the Twenty-First Hall was the one that had once led to the corridor where Arras had slid through the hole and been caught by Seth. Now the east entrance was completely blocked by a rock fall, although Celebrimbor would have had no way of knowing that if Arras hadn't told him.

Celebrimbor's instructions, therefore, were to head west across the massive Second Hall, up the grand staircase and Arras would meet him at the top and take him to the Gilmalk encampment. He was no slouch when it came to taking care of himself. He had both long knives, a sword and a P90 automatic weapon which he handled and used with the confidence and aplomb of a soldier of many years standing. Weapons came naturally to him, both the making of them and the using of them and he had not forgotten Chief Knowles and the Naugrim making the ammunition for the weapons Gary, Kim and the others had landed in Middle-earth with during the War of Wrath.

Like Thranduil, he admired their workmanship, unlike Thranduil, the use of them thrilled him to the very marrow in his bones.

His keen Elven sight and senses probed the area around him. Despite the gloom and heavy oppressive atmosphere in this part of Moria, he was able to assess the best and most straightforward route to the stairs based on what he could see and his memory of the hall.

He remembered that it had very large columns made of some shiny black volcanic stone which were placed at equal intervals on long raised platforms. Seth Falconer, the Grigori would have recognised the shiny black stone as obsidian almost immediately he saw the columns. Each raised platform ran the entire length of the hall and there were five rows of the platforms. If he kept to the right he could run along the platform and along that wall and if he remembered rightly, there was a set of stairs which zig-zagged upwards until one reached the fifth or sixth level of Moria. The Twenty-first Hall was on the seventh level.

Once more he heard the stealthy slithering, but could not readily make out whether this was a creature that was following him, or just another small animal going about its normal business. In any case, he persuaded himself, it didn't really matter all that much. He wasn't there to find out about the animal life in Moria he was there to meet up with Arras's people.

With that in mind Celebrimbor stood up and swiftly moved to the base of the first platform where there should have been stairs leading up. A rockfall, however, or something very heavy falling from above had smashed into the stairs and there was a gaping hole left in their place. This was not really a problem for an Elf of course and Celebrimbor lightly leaped up the seven foot height on one side, using a slender broken piece of the stairs which was sticking out about two inches from the wall as a foothold. As he leapt and landed lightly on the balls of his feet, he heard the slithering noise again and froze on the spot.

Who or whatever was there was moving across the floor of the hall and heading in the same direction he was.

He wasn't quite sure just how long he stood there unmoving, but one thing was for sure; his stalker wasn't moving either. Celebrimbor had the strangest feeling that some creature was literally standing just below him, as silent as he was and waiting for him to take another step before it duplicated it. He huffed a soft sigh and immediately stopped himself short. It was very likely that his stalker had very highly developed hearing and sight given that most of its time must have been spent in the dark.

He debated with himself as to whether to switch on the powerful torch that he was equipped with, but decided not to. Instead he moved stealthily along the platform, but hugging the wall, as he moved towards the staircase. Sure enough, he had not gone more than five paces when he heard the slithering noise of his stalker as it shuffled along below him, yet also keeping pace with him.

_This is ridiculous,_ he thought to himself. _Just shine the light on him Celebrimbor. You have a sword, two knives and a gun. You faced Annatar and his army with less armament and apparently a lot more courage. _

_Yes, and just look how well that worked out for you. _Sneered the voice of opposition in his head. _This thing obviously doesn't have the courage to face you otherwise you'd have been dead meat back there at Durin's Bridge. Just keep going, once you hit the stairs Arras should be there. Then there will be two of you to fight it off if need be._

Celebrimbor groaned softly and swore in Khuzdul under his breath. Not for the first time he wondered why the opposition voice in his head _always_ sounded _exactly _like Daeradar Feanor at his most sarcastic. He decided that discretion was the better part of valour and began to slink along the wall once more, all the time aware of his shuffling stalker down below.

It seemed to take a lifetime to reach the end of the hall, but reach it he did. As he ran the last few yards along the platform he became aware of a muted glow ahead of him and gradually the stairs themselves, lit with torches, probably by Arras or the Naugrim patrols, came into view. He leapt lightly off the end of the platform and pounded towards the stairs and the light, presumably with his pursuer in hot pursuit. He was too busy running to take the time to look back.

The staircase leading up to the top was built as a set of wide terraces connected by flights of wide stone stairs with a carved balustrade. An impressive feat of architecture and one that Celebrimbor would have gladly examined had he not had some unknown stalking creature nipping at his heels. He pelted hell for leather up the first short flight of stairs towards the lit area on the first terrace and he could now hear his pursuer's harsh, heavy breathing seemingly only a couple of paces behind him. Another minute and whatever it was would catch up to him and would be breathing right down his neck. It was now or never to make his move.

_You're out of condition boy_. Opposition voice immediately reared up and sneered inside his head. _I bet you couldn't fight your way out of a paper bag now. After all nobody fights in Valinor. Unless you call scuffling with some ellyth for the last piece of plum cake on the tea tray a fight, of course._

_Wherever_ this voice came from, be it the disembodied voice of his grandfather or his own psyche, Celebrimbor let out a snarl and withdrew the sword. As he did so, he turned smoothly and swung it in a smooth wide arc in front of him.

Except that there was nothing there for it to slice into.

His whole attention was entirely focused in front of him with the result that he nearly shot six feet in the air when a hand tentatively touched him from behind. He whirled around instantly and grabbed his assailant by the throat, lifting him clear off the floor and raising the sword threateningly.

It took a few seconds to realise that he _wasn't _facing some creature that meant him harm.

"Master Celebrimbor... it's me... Arras. What in the name of Mahalis wrong with you?" Arras croaked, as his face slowly turned blue in Celebrimbor's death grip.

ooOoo

Thranduil tried not to laugh, he really did, but the visual of Celebrimbor holding poor little Arras up by his throat with his little legs dangling and kicking was just too much for him.

Elrond realised, by the peculiar honking, choking noise he was making, that Thranduil was trying not to laugh and he kicked him sharply on the ankle thereby causing the Elvenking to hiss with pain and change the laughter into a cross between a strangled cough and a sneeze.

"I am seeing Celebrimbor in an _entirely _new light." Thranduil whispered sotto voce to Glorfindel who snorted with laughter. He rubbed his sore ankle as best he could through the boot. "I was tempted to do the selfsame thing with those dratted dwarves who interrupted my woodland feast all those ages ago."

Seth glanced over at the two Elves and laughed softly. He had heard every whispered word and only thanked the Lord above that the Naugrim's hearing wasn't all that good.

They were all seated around the fire while Seth and Radagast talked to Orgrim with occasional translating of terminology from Celebrimbor.

Thranduil, having recovered from his coughing fit under the gimlet gaze of Elrond, found himself studying the Naugrim leader, Orgrim closely. The Elvenking had many dealings with the Dwarves in the past including those of Bilbo Baggins' small party. Even if he hadn't had those dealings, he was astute enough to recognise and interpret body language. The modern notion of telling someone's intention or mood from the unconscious movements of the human form was nothing new to Thranduil. Indeed, he had been doing that almost all of his life, both as a commander of his father's troops and as a King.

Orgrim's current body language was telling him that the Dwarf was hiding something. Not a necessarily important something, at least to Seth and his group, but Thranduil got the distinct impression that whatever it was, it may be something that would cause the Naugrim leader to lose face in both the eyes of the strangers and his own people somehow. Dwarves were not the easiest creatures in the world to deal with. They could be stiff-necked to a ridiculous degree especially where matters of the honour of a Dwarf were concerned, possibly even as stiff-necked as the average Elf could be come to think of it. All this gentle questioning by Seth, who, judging by his own expression, had possibly come to the same conclusion as Thranduil, was getting them nowhere fast. So being who he was and being an Elf who was noted for his impatience, Thranduil decided to reach the truth of the matter in his own inimitable fashion.

"You've lost people haven't you?" He stared straight at Orgrim who went beet red, cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. However Thranduil appreciated the fact that the Dwarf did return his implacable green gaze steadily.

Seth glanced sharply from one to the other and to Elrond it looked as though he was going to intervene, but instead he smiled and those deep dimples of his peeped out, giving his face that boyish look he had when he smiled. He gave a barely imperceptible shrug of his shoulders and remained silent, although Elrond saw a speculative look in his eyes and sighed. Seth was right, Thranduil probably _did _know how to deal with the reticence of the Dwarves better than anyone there, Eru knows he'd dealt with enough of it in his time. He settled back against the rock and gave a smile of thanks to the dark-haired dwarf who handed him, of all things, a mug of English tea.

Orgrim felt himself flush, first with anger and then with embarrassment. Despite the intervening millennia and the many trials that had faced the surviving Naugrim during those terrible times, certain elements of their history with the Elves had been passed down, some of which were better not remembered at all. However, in amongst those elements of history had been the interaction between them and the King of Mirkwood and apparently that King had not altered at all. He was still as blunt and straightforward in his dealings with the Naugrim as had been reported and Orgrim felt a sneaking admiration and respect for a creature who had lived so long, seen so much and yet still called a spade a spade.

He glanced around his own little group and then at young Arras, who was gazing with something akin to hero worship at the tall dark-haired Celebrimbor. He sighed deeply. It would have been much more preferable to keep certain elements of the issue to just the elders and the patrols who reported in, but in fact they _had_ lost people, just as the Elf so baldly suggested.

Oh they had found numerous ways to cover it up; rockfalls, slipping on the rubble that littered Moria and even tales of people getting separated from their fellows and losing their way in the many dark passages and halls, but the truth of the matter was, they _were_ being picked off gradually and this was the reason for moving to the large Twenty-First Hall, which could be defended fairly well, certainly better than the palace they had been in at first, just west of the entrance into Moria from the West. All passageways from each direction of the north, south, east and west of the Twenty-First Hall could be guarded more than adequately. The disappearances had lessened a little by making that move, but that wasn't the point Thranduil was making, as Orgrim well knew.

"Yes." He said simply. He saw the interest of Seth, Radagast and the Elves prick up immediately. The rest of the patrol were standing guard around the perimeter. "We...the elders and myself...believe that our people are being taken."

Thranduil's golden eyebrows raised. "By whom?"

"Rather by _what_." A dwarf by the name of Bofi growled grimly. The others had subsided into a shocked silence by the open admission of their leader, especially Arras who had gasped with horror and fought back tears. Celebrimbor had stepped closer to him and had put a comforting hand on the young Dwarf's shoulder.

Orgrim hushed him with one sharp hand gesture. "We do not know. We have no real evidence of _actual_ beings other than as mere shadows seen out of the corner of the eye. We keep the females and the younglings within the encampment and they are not supposed to go wandering around the city or the mines." He glared at Arras at this point, who blushed and stared down at his feet. "That doesn't stop them of course, as you can see by young Arras here, but...we are losing ground. We don't know if it's a who or a what, but those that they take are never seen again, although we did find the axe of young Hoibur, son of Glegnis by the stony passage that leads down into Silvertine."

Thranduil knitted his brows together in a frown. "You think he was dragged down there?"

Orgrim nodded and the other Dwarves grunted in agreement. "Yes my Lord. We had made some forays into the Great Delving, one of the great power-houses is situated there. We were trying to see if we could get it working. It was to there that we sent the small squad who subsequently reported that they had managed to find the old passage down to Silvertine from an exit in the Great Delving and who then travelled that perilous road to the Waterworks. Hoibur was part of a patrol that we sent there to retrieve some equipment that the squad had lost in their flight from the Waterworks and whatever fiendish creature they found there. We...we think that he ventured too far down the passage and something..." He gulped and lowered his voice. "Something took him and dragged him down into the Silvertine Lodes. At least, that's what we thought had happened. There are other...creatures here. We found some weapons, badly made, but good enough for killing I deem."

Celebrimbor had been rapidly translating for Seth and the others, Radagast had a more than rudimentary grasp of Khuzdul and Glorfindel's mastery of the language was quite good, so _they _did not need much translated.

Seth cleared his throat and got Thranduil and Orgrim's attention. "You believe these creatures are living lower down in the mines?"

Celebrimbor's look of surprise at Seth's sudden almost perfect Khuzdul was only matched by the similar expressions on the face of everyone but Radagast and, apparently, Elrond, who didn't seem very shocked at anything Seth did.

Orgrim nodded grimly. "Yes my Lord. I think they've been there all this time, perhaps remnants from the days when Moria was occupied by the goblins from the Misty Mountains and who were taken over, so to speak by the Dark Lord of the day."

Seth turned to Thranduil and the others and spoke in Sindarin so that the other men and dwarves would not understand him. "I think he is probably right in this and it sounds as though we have some exploration to do further down in the mines. If he _does _turn out to be right, then somehow, these creatures have survived and bred, although how I do not know, unless they ate each other."

Glorfindel shrugged. "If they are descendants of Orc-kind, then they did not hesitate to feed off each other on the surface of this world, why should being underground be any different?"

"As I recall, the Orcs and even the goblins of that time still retained a rudimentary intelligence. If so, then I think they will have organised themselves naturally into divisions within their society." Seth mused. "The elderly, those born deficient and those who died in any in-fighting would become the food store. The males would breed with the females still of breeding age and the young would be protected to some degree until they became of use to the group. I imagine that there is considerable in-breeding which may have caused mutations."

"Mutations?" Thranduil let out a crack of laughter. "I'm not sure we would be readily able to tell if they _did_ have mutations. They were pretty hideous to start out with."

Seth smiled as everyone else chuckled at Thranduil's quip. "And those mutations would have come from cross breeding and in-breeding, even in Sauron's day. Whatever the reason or the situation, if there are enough of them and they are breeding, that would be more than enough reason for Herumor to be interested in this place."

"A ready built army." Radagast put in softly.

"And cannon fodder if he needed it." Agreed Elrond. "Although having lived down here so long, I am not sure how they would cope with sunlight. Do you intend to go further down into the mines today?"

Seth shook his head. "I think not. We have talked for longer than I had intended and there is no time left for visiting the encampment _and _returning to base overnight. I believe we will accept Orgrim's gracious offer of hospitality in their main encampment in the Twenty-First Hall first and have a look around there. We can start out from there tomorrow and head down towards Silvertine. By that time the Kerubim from Vevey should be here and can join us. I am sure that Celebrimbor and Arras can meet them at the First Hall and bring them to us at the encampment. I will radio base and let them know to send the Vevey people to meet Celebrimbor at Durin's Bridge."

Orgrim beamed and nodded enthusiastically, as did the other Dwarves. "If there are more like you and these Lord.." He gestured to the Elves and the Men that were with Seth. "...then it would be as good as an army."

"Good." Seth smiled at him. "Then it is settled. Let us break up this small camp and you may lead on towards your base my friends."

ooOoo

**Durin's Hall**

_This_ trip across the gloomy, badly lit Second Hall was vastly different from Celebrimbor's first one. This time, the combined lights from the torches and the obvious fire-power, along with the presence of Elves _and _Ainur, served to keep any sort of stalker or potential menace at bay. He did however glance quickly over to where the dark entrance to the Redhorn Lodes and Foundations of Stone lay. Beyond that point lay places that even now sent a shiver down his spine to think about and in those days, the Dwarves had been many and well armed.

Elrond looked questioningly at Celebrimbor as he hesitated and his eyes followed the Elven-Smith's gaze until it rested on the inky black rectangle that comprised the entrance to some of the lower levels of Moria. It looked a dark and forbidding path.

"The Foundations of Stone and the Redhorn Lodes lie that way." Celebrimbor said quietly. "The Redhorn had creatures in it that even then were unknown above ground and were dangerous. Eru only knows what they may have developed into without the Dwarves keeping their numbers down. Further down lie the Flaming Deeps from which I believe the Balrog of Moria came on that fateful day the Fellowship of the Nine came through this place."

Elrond nodded. "I can see why you are disquieted by this place."

He glanced up and around the lofty, and in a very dark way, impressive Second Hall. The torchlight flickered off the polished black stone of the columns and caused their reflections to dance. Seth had called the stone obsidian and said that his forebears, the Annunaki, had carved many items from it to trade down on the plains of what was now called Iraq.

"This must have been spectacular in the heyday of Moria." Glorfindel joined in the conversation.

"Yes, it was." Celebrimbor glanced over his shoulder as they walked across the floor of the Second Hall.

Glorfindel frowned. "Do you hear something?" He also glanced back but could see nothing but the gloom gathering at their backs as they progressed towards the stairs.

Celebrimbor shook his head. "No...it's nothing. Just a fanciful notion that there are eyes in the dark behind us." He couldn't shake that awful feeling of being stalked his first time in the hall.

"I wouldn't be at _all _surprised if there were." Radagast added his tuppence worth calmly. "I rather suspect that there is more down here than meets the eye. We are travelling into unknown territory my friends!"

Celebrimbor peered ahead of them and he could now make out the richly carved ornate balustrades of the terraces and stairs that comprised the way up to the next level. The torches which were held in sconces on the walls were just a fuzzy orange glow at this point, but the eyes of the Eldar are keen and both Elrond and Thranduil and then Glorfindel, exclaimed in astonishment as the staircase began to reveal itself in all its considerable glory to them. The human members of the patrol moved along in an absolute, awestruck silence.

All the Dwarves glowed at the words of praise that were being exchanged, even though the workmanship had been done by members of their race now long since dead. Seth was quiet, but Elrond could see that there was a glow in his eyes. Seth had ran an appreciative hand over the smooth shiny blackness of the columns and his approval of the whole hall was no less than that.

"What a wonderful hall this must have been in its' day. Lit up by hundreds of crystal lights and filled with prosperous Dwarves and their ladies." He murmured appreciatively.

Orgrim beamed at him. "Indeed it must. Of course none now live who would remember that apart from Master Celebrimbor there, but I have seen drawings in the lore that was passed down to us that depicted such areas as the Twenty-First Hall and the Second Hall as they were in Durin's day." A sad look came into his dark eyes. "Ah to have seen the beauty of Khazad-dum in the days of its splendour and glory, _before _it came to ruin. Alas for the Elders in that time delving far too deep and disturbing that which should not have been disturbed."

"I am sorry Master Dwarf." Seth said softly. "I imagine it was not an easy decision to come back here to this place."

"I was just a youngster then." Orgrim said gruffly. "I remember that we wandered from place to place like vagabonds, stopping only for a while at what had been the former places of the Naugrim, but each had been altered by the passage of time. Some places we could not gain entry to and others were so destroyed that living there would have proved impossible. They were also often too close to the settlements of Men and we would not have been left in peace. It was my own great-grandfather who made the final decision to come north and seek out Moria." His gaze grew dreamy and distant. "I remember the women saying that it was too dangerous. They spoke of the creature of shadow and flame and the Orc-kind that had taken over. Who knows what still remains they said, but at the end, we had no choice. We could not remain among mankind. We do not fit in. We are a remnant of a time long past and unlike the Elves we have no Blessed Realm to comfort ourselves with."

Thranduil listened to the old Dwarf and felt a sudden pity for him and his kind. He too had often felt divorced from modern man. His own kind were practically non-existent in Arda in this time and he had felt no desire to sail, even if he could have found the way across the straight road. He had thrown in his lot with the race of Men for better or for worse and for the most part had blended in relatively seamlessly, unlike the Dwarves who would have been ridiculed and tormented for being different. The main problem Thranduil had encountered was _always_ with women. They would take one look at the devastatingly handsome Elvenking and throw themselves wholeheartedly at him, although the methods of getting his attention had differed from century to century.

This modern time, beginning with the Twenties and the emergence of the fast 'young thing' meant that men were actively pursued rather than being the pursuer. To be hunted was not part of Thranduil's life plan and he had to develop a strategy to avoid unnecessary attention. Of course the more beautiful the woman, the more she felt that she deserved the attention of such a beautiful, vital, strong male, so it made things very difficult for him down through the centuries to avoid being trapped in a situation that would only lead to heartache for all concerned. He could not give them what they desired and would not cheapen the act of love by using it as a casual method of relief.

Orgrim was right, where did the Dwarves, or any of the other races for that matter, go when they needed to heal? Where was _their _place of brightness and beauty? Why should it only be the Eldar who deserved such peace and a chance to live their lives with all of their family around them until the end of days? What made them better than anyone else in Arda? Nothing. They had been as guilty of dark acts as any of the other races. It was only the Valar's obsessive love for the Firstborn that allowed them to be different and gave them a place in a realm of everlasting peace.

"Yet still you came." Seth replied softly to the Dwarf's mournful comments.

Orgrim shrugged. "We were running out of places to go to."

Seth's face became suffused with distress. "I wish we...the Grigori... had known... maybe we could have helped, or at the very least found you somewhere better to go than an underground city filled with danger."

"Perhaps you still can." Came Elrond's response. "We are currently here for a very good reason, but there is really no need for Orgrim's people to live like this. Can Grigori Enterprises not assist these good folk to find somewhere peaceful to live where the race of Men will accept them?"

"I have already spoken to Joaquim about this and he will speak to the Council." Seth quickly switched to Sindarin. "However, I do not wish to speak to our friend about this without seeing what their situation was first. It could well be that they would not wish for us to interfere with their lives. If that is the case then we will do our best to clear this place of danger so that they can remain here safely."

"Ai!" Glorfindel's soft exclamation of awe made them all take notice of where they were. While they had been talking and walking they had now reached the bottom of the staircase and its full austere beauty hit them right between the eyes.

"From here we can either head east along the corridor and pick up the main passageway and stairs that lead up to the seventh level." Orgrim explained. "However, we thought that you may wish to see Durin's Hall, even now after millennia it is still in wonderful condition. The carvings and the statuary are magnificent. It has much obsidian Lord Seth, carved in intricately and in wonderful delicate detail. It is also on the way. We can cut across the hall and take the exit directly before the stairs leading upwards t oour encampment, but only if you wish."

All eyes swivelled to the Grigori and he laughed to see the sudden childlike pleading in them. "I believe that the answer to that is 'yes please' from all concerned."

"It is a wonderful sight." Boasted Orgrim. "Even now the crystal lights in the hall still work, although they need to be physically switched on, I believe they were lit all the time in Durin's time. We do not know how this can be, we thought perhaps a secondary power source, but even though we have not seen anything dangerous in there, we cannot be sure, so we have not looked into it further."

He led the way into a large square part of the passageway where they could have gone a number of different ways.

"The way through the passages lies to your right." He continued. "To your left is a place where we do not go. We cannot tell where it leads, but we know that it was once an encampment for Orc and goblin-kind. The entrance further along on the left leads to the same place. The passageway then continues on as you can see. There are some stairs going down and then the passageway carries on and runs parallel to Durin's Way which you will see starts in Durin's Hall and ends far beyond that. We have not been that far and we do not know what may be there. The old maps say that it leads to the stairs down to the Flaming Deeps. That staircase is the twin of the one you came up from the Second Hall, except on a larger scale. It seems to go down very very far. The entrance you see straight ahead goes straight into Durin's Hall."

He looked both left and right as if he was waiting for traffic to pass so he could cross the road, but Thranduil could see from the sudden wariness and stiffening of his posture and indeed that of all of the Dwarves, that it was more from a regular necessity to check that nothing dangerous was coming along those dark passages that might be dangerous. Eventually Orgrim seemed satisfied that nothing untoward was waiting in the gloom and headed out across the square area. He gestured them all to follow with a wave of his stubby hand and they all trotted behind him in single file like ducklings behind the mother duck. Thranduil had a great deal of trouble keeping his face straight at the notion and for once he could see that Elrond and the others, including Seth and the men in the party, were having the same problem. Yet still, he noticed with approval that the two men at the back of the procession were guarding their rear and alert for any trouble that might have come up from the hall behind them.

They all quietly filed in through the entrance. Orgrim and his fellows had gone first in order to ensure the crystal lights were all lit. As soon as Seth and his party were all crowded in, one of the Dwarves pressed the switch that lit up the lights and everyone blinked as a myriad of twinkling lights lit up the most tremendous sight that had met most of their eyes for a very long time.

There, stretched out for at least a half a mile in front of them, lay Durin's Hall, rows of columns glittering with specks of precious jewels which were embedded in the stone from which they were carved. The floors were of the same glittering stone as had been in the First Hall, but were laid in an intricate geometric pattern. The walls were covered with panels alternately of beaten mithril and obsidian; the black and silver theme was echoed in the gargantuan statues that marched down the sides of the hall.

Directly in front of them lay the massive obsidian and mithril throne that Durin had occupied during state occasions. It was so huge it had to have almost swallowed him up when he sat in it. Down from the throne there was a set of wide stone steps leading down to a passage so wide that it would have justified being called an actual road and it was indeed called Durin's Way and it ran the entire length of the city from which Dwarves would come to be present at auspicious occasions, walking up the stone stairs and being immediately faced with Durin on his throne to greet them.

Honoured guests were also brought up those stairs from guest quarters elsewhere in the city and presented to Durin. Celebrimbor stared at the steps and became lost in one sudden memory of such an occasion. He and his fellow smiths, dressed in court dress of flowing robes, circlets resting in their bright hair, sweeping gracefully up the stairs and bowing before the leader of the Dwarven nation. He remembered goblets made from mithril and other precious metals, studded with gems and filled with rich red wine and the cooked meats from the huge spits in the kitchens, dripping with rich juices and piled up on tables which groaned under the weight of the provender.

He was only jerked into the here and now when Orgrim stepped grandly in front of them and proclaimed in a deep, proud voice.

"My friends, let me bid you welcome to Durin's Hall, the heart of Khazad-dum!"

ooOoo


	49. A Light in the Darkness

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: ** Thanks again for the great reviews, as always they are much appreciated.

I have tried to make Moria as grand and massive a place as I always imagined it to be. Peter Jackson just hinted at it in the movies and Tolkien gave us tantalising glimpses in the book. However every time I read those passages or see the splendour of Dwarrowdelf laid out in front of us in the DVD, I keep thinking about all the things that must have been there and that we do not see. We are told that the goblins from the Misty Mountains, orcs and cave trolls lived there cheek by jowl with the Balrog, but I find it fascinating to think about what else might have been there. What other amazing sights and places were part of this huge place. Then I started to play Lord of the Rings Online, the MMORPG and it's amazing just how many of the places in the book were brought to life in this graphically beautiful game. The Mines of Moria was a much awaited expansion and when I started to explore this with my Guardian character, I was knocked out by the way the designers developed it. It was exactly how I had always thought of it.

So, it seemed a no-brainer to use their template as my Mines of Moria and many of the places mentioned in this story are those which were laid out graphically in the game itself. And this is a game that is approved by the Tolkien Estates and, of course, has to operate within the strict guidelines set out for authenticity, as Tolkien himself would have wanted it, had he ever known about it. Although I think that the good professor would always have preferred the written word.

We always hear of the 'darkness of Moria'. The characters in Lord of the Rings speak of it in lowered tones as an evil place, but I get the impression that it was not always so, in Durin's day when first built it must have been spectacular.

At any rate, I have tried to put into words the decaying, ruined splendour of a once wondrous place in Middle-earth, a place where Durin ruled and the Dwarves lived their glory days, and now, in my story, they are a race dwindled down to a handful struggling to survive within the ruins of a once great nation. I hope I have succeeded to some degree. This chapter deals with more of Moria and the arrival of some 'big guns'.

_"_What is man, that thou art mindful of him? ... For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour._" _

_**Psalm 8:4,5 **_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 49 – A Light in the Darkness**

**The Gilmalk Encampment, Twenty-First Hall of Moria**

Thranduil opened one bleary eye and looked askance at Elrond as best he could with one eye shut. If there was one thing he detested it was a chipper Elf who stood there looking all clean and neatly braided like the class swot first thing in the morning; especially after a night spent drinking Dwarven ale.

"Come on old man. It's time to rise. Breakfast is cooking and we have places to explore." Elrond's voice was even more cheerful...and it was loud. Thranduil winced and prised his other eye open.

"_Old man_? How about I rise up and smack you in the eye?" He growled. Elrond chuckled and skipped off. Or at least to the jaded Thranduil Elrond's stately walk was almost tantamount to skipping. "I may kill him and then kill myself."

All around him there was activity, but it was still quite dark because the only light light came from braziers and torches. Thranduil tried to remember why he wasn't in his bed and then realised that he was sleeping in a sleeping bag on the ground in the Dwarf encampment in the Twenty-First Hall of Moria.

"Good morning." Seth squatted down beside him and handed him a mug of something that smelt like liquid paradise.

"Coffee." Thranduil took the cup and squinted at Seth. "I would like you to marry me and have my babies." He took a sip, sighed and lay back.

Seth's beautiful face creased up with laughter. "Elrond is a fine fellow, but his wake-up calls lack that certain something. I thought coffee might look better than a disgustingly cheery smile."

"You, my friend, are a gentleman and a scholar." Thranduil hoisted himself upwards and sat with his back against a wooden stanchion. "That ale last night was something else."

Seth sat down with his mug of coffee. "I must admit that it definitely puts hairs on your chest." He agreed companionably.

Thranduil glanced down at his chest. "I do hope not." He murmured. "Yet Elrond looks as fresh as a daisy. Remind me to stab him the next time he comes over here with his 'Good morning, it's a fine day' routine. Why isn't he as jaded as the rest of us?"

He jerked his head over to where a dawn chorus of growls and curses came from the rest of the patrol as Elrond roused them.

Seth chuckled. "I have a feeling that he cheated. He didn't have the ale, they found a bottle of wine for him instead."

"I really _am _going to kill him." Thranduil looked suspiciously at Seth. "You don't look hung over either."

The Grigori tried for a contrite look. "We Grigori don't get drunk very easily. I think you'll find that Eönwë and his kin are the same. Something do with us being who we are. We can offset the effects of alcohol quite easily. But don't feel too bad, it doesn't mean that we don't understand about the effects of it on others and that ale is very strong. Even Radagast blinked a lot after the first swallow. These Naugrim must have cast iron stomachs."

Thranduil gave him a quizzical look. "Perhaps Elrond's Maia part makes it easier for him to offset the effects." He commented slyly. "Come to think of it, I have seen him sink an entire bottle of Dorwinion wine and still be as sober as a judge afterwards."

Seth said nothing for a while. He merely sipped his coffee and Thranduil did the same. The early morning Naugrim patrol were apparently just setting out and the two of them watched as their patrol commander checked them over. All around the camp the women and the children of the clan were carrying out their usual duties. Over the other side of the encampment Thranduil could see that four of the Dwarven smiths were already at their work; one of them was a female, he noticed idly. And that _beat beat beat _of the hammers at least partially explained the noise in his head. Celebrimbor was standing beside the forges, he pointed at something on the anvil and made an animated movement with his arm as if he was showing them a different method of beating the metal.

"They have done very well here with their encampment." Seth commented.

Thranduil looked up. All around them stood the wooden stanchions that supported the wooden walkways high above the camp which served much the same purpose as the palisade around the early British castles. At each corner of the palisade there was a watchtower which was constantly manned and the whole was constructed with defence in mind.

The camp itself was built on an area in the Hall which rose higher than the rest. Thranduil assumed that some edifice had once stood there, perhaps a building that had been destroyed or a raised dais, although Eru only knew why the Dwarves would have a raised dais of that size in the middle of a large hall.

"Yes, they have." He said after a little while. "This is a good, defensible area..."

"But? I feel a 'but' coming on." Seth asked with a whimsical smile.

Thranduil sighed. "But nobody should have to live like this. It's a virtual prison and Eru only knows what a strain it's been for Orgrim and the other leaders knowing that there is something here that does not mean them well. I know that Dwarves love being underground, but those children need to feel the sun on their faces. They need to play on the grass, hear the birds sing and feel the wind as it blows."

Seth nodded in agreement. "Yes they do and I have put the matter to Joaquim who will speak to the Council of the Grigori and see what they can come up with. However I cannot get a signal here to speak to Joaquim and the others, we are too far underground. Hopefully Ezekiel will bring a message for me from them and then I will broach the subject with Orgrim."

"Ezekiel?"

"Ezekiel is one of the Kerubim warriors that Joaquim is sending, there will be ten of them, all trained by me. I am their commanding officer, so to speak. They are all consummate and deadly warriors." Seth drained his coffee and handed it with a smile of thanks to the German member of their patrol, a man called Dieter, who was passing by.

"Kerubim." Thranduil said thoughtfully. "Everything I have read says that there was only _four _Kerubim and they stood by the throne of God. The likeness of two of them was depicted on top of the Ark of the Covenant and it was said that when Israel worshipped God, they turned to each other in an embrace. Most erudite sources have come up with a number of theories as to what they _actually_ were. Weren't the Kerubim supposed to be an amalgamation of four living creatures?"

Seth smiled. "There is a great deal that mankind do not know about the Kerubim, but it doesn't stop them fantasising and speculating. In Jewish, Christian, and Islamic literature, we are depicted as a celestial winged being with human, animal, or birdlike characteristics. We are of the second order of Ainur or Angels, and in the Hebrew scriptures we are described as the throne bearers of God. In Christianity and Islam we are the celestial attendants of God and praise him continually. In Islam we are known as karubun; apparently, according to them, we repeat "Glory to God" ceaselessly, and we are supposed to dwell in a section of heaven inaccessible to attacks by the Devil."

"And how accurate is all that?" Thranduil asked.

Seth shrugged and gave him an impish smile. "Some of it, certainly. We _are _of the second order of Ainur and there _are _always two of us in attendance with the Source of All Things, that which you call Eru Iluvatar, but I think Eru might have a few words to say if we kept up the 'Glory to God' chanting ceaselessly. The Timeless Halls are a place of beauty and peace. Eru knows full well who and what he is, he doesn't need to be reminded every few seconds."

"And the celestial winged being part?"

Seth sighed. "It's difficult to explain in terms you would understand. Not that I am saying you are by any means stupid. Like the Maiar, and in our natural form, we can incarnate and disincarnate ourselves. Our fea is constant, but our hroa is not. It can be whatever we wish it to be. Those of us left behind here when the others were recalled to the Halls, either by choice or because we had transgressed, were told that although we retained what we were and many of our powers and knowledge, we would not be allowed to disincarnate. We are bound to our incarnate form until the end or until Eru recalls us. We cannot communicate with Eru or our brethren in the Timeless Halls because of that, although they can communicate with us if need be. In order to speak to them we need to free ourselves of our physical form and travel in spirit. This is called 'walking the paths of the moon' but it is denied us and we need to use other methods to sustain ourselves. In antediluvian times we often appeared to mankind in a form similar to their own, both Seraphim and Kerubim. But as civilisation marched on and they began to create their pantheons of deities and many of them turned away from Eru. So he recalled the stronghold on earth after commanding Michael punish the transgressors Semjaza and his brethren. Those of us left then served the faithful among mankind, but of course our interaction with them became less and less over time and we found that in order to make them listen to _and _heed the messages we were given for them, we had to assume more and more frightening forms."

"So what _do_ you look like in your celestial form?" Thranduil asked, a bemused expression on his face.

"In spiritual form we resemble columns of the four elements." Seth said calmly. "But if we appear to mankind in that form _they_ would see four creatures _within _us, representing the formative powers of the elements. We are the Kerubs of Air, Water, Earth and Fire manifested in one being. Air is represented by the face of man. Fire is represented by the face of a lion, the face of the eagle represents Water and the bull represents the Kerub of Earth. Unfortunately, by the time that a mortal man has seen us in that form, it is already too late for them. When we appear as such, we are here to judge and purge wrongdoers at the command of Eru and that judgement is terrible. We are both guardians and heralds. In our physical form here on earth, we are warriors and there are many of us. Along with the Seraphim we form the Armies of the Host. Mostly though we now remain in a human form and if any from the Halls visited earth, then so would they."

"It's very hard for me to visualise." Thranduil said softly. The true nature of these beings was almost as disturbing as he had imagined. "Do the Maiar and the Valar have similar forms to you that we Eldar do not see?"

Seth stood up and smiled down at him. "Their choice was _very_ different to ours. They came down here because Eru formed the earth and they found it beautiful. So beautiful that they were given the task of looking after it. Had they stayed in the Halls, then they would have been subject to the same laws as the rest of us. The Valar would have been Seraphim and Eönwë would have been a Kerubim warrior had he not been the Herald of Manwe and the Oathkeeper of Eru. Unlike us, he _can_ still disincarnate and is _not _earthbound, although for the purposes of his task here and the marriage with a mortal woman, he _must_ remain in his incarnate form for most of the time and in that form he cannot commune with Eru, which is necessary for his well-being. Sooner or later he will have to seek communion from the rest of us in order to retain that form without damaging his hroa beyond repair which would require his return to Valinor. This is why we have become as involved with you all as we have at the request of Eru himself through the auspices of Raguel who has been sent from the Timeless Halls to Valinor to liaise between the Valar and the Grigori."

Thranduil also stood up and methodically started to roll up the sleeping bag and sort out his kit. "I suppose I never thought about it, but how has Radagast maintained his form, if Eönwë will have to seek communion for his? I wonder what Eönwë did about it during the War of Wrath, he was here for some considerable time."

Seth gave him a ghost of a smile. "Radagast comes to us regularly and has done since the Ice Age when he came across us in Cappadocia. He is a regular guest at Vevey and at Deir Al Suryan in the Western Desert of Egypt. He 'recharges his batteries' as he calls it when he does come to us. I have known him since I was young in the eyes of the Ainur. And yes Eönwë was here for some time in incarnate form, but you must remember that he was also in the presence of a Vala the whole time, since Tulkas was also here and therefore he received communion from Eru through him."

"Many apologies for the interruption, but I am to tell you that the food is ready." Arras interrupted their conversation. "I have been sent over by Orgrim to say that it is time to break your fast my Lords."

Thranduil was disappointed that the conversation with Seth had to end so quickly, he hadn't even begun to plumb the depths of all the questions running through his brain; things like how did the Grigori manage to maintain their own forms if they couldn't commune with Eru. He also wanted to know how Elrond fitted in with all of this. Was there part of him that could perhaps disincarnate or was he considered by them to be wholly earthbound? All of this must have shown on his face because Seth put out his hand and grasped Thranduil's arm gently.

"We must eat now and move out, but I know you have many more questions. We _will _have a chance to talk again later and I will attempt to answer them all. You must not be concerned for your friend." He nodded to where Elrond was already seated at the long wooden table talking with Radagast, Celebrimbor and Glorfindel. "He is keen to explore the side of him that he feels has always been there. It will not harm him to do so."

Thranduil flushed. "I didn't think it would for one moment. It's just that I never really thought about that part of him before. I don't think _anyone_ has, not even his wife."

"No." Seth said quietly as they headed over to the long table together. "I don't believe that the Valar believed it was _necessary_ to explore it. They simply conferred the title of Halfelven upon him and his descendants and granted him the immortality of the Eldar because the larger part of his blood was Eldar and because it was the easy option. Yet the call of his Ainur blood is still there, although it is controllable within the grace and light of the Valar in the Blessed Realm. However it has recently become stronger because he is back here in Arda after a very long time living under that grace and does not have it to support him now. The Valar's link with earth is now severed. We will help Elrond come to terms with his heritage and help him to deal with whatever issues may arise from it."

Their conversation was cut short as they sat down and Seth's attention was claimed by their host, Orgrim. Thranduil noticed that Elrond was giving him a querying look, but he ignored it and helped himself to the bread which was coarse but very good and some honey. That was another thing that he needed to remember to ask Orgrim about. Where on earth did they get flour to bake this stuff? Surely nothing would grow this far underground without adequate light? And honey? Some of this just had to come from the surface. This Bofi was known as an adventurer and often travelled topside, perhaps he was in charge of some sort of local procurement and if that was the case what did they use for money?

There were many more questions than there were answers.

His musings on the issues of growing things underground and Elrond and his dratted Ainur blood fell into the back of his mind as the Australian member of the team, Carver Grissom, engaged him in a light banter about the properties of Fosters Lager against the dark brew they had drunk with the Dwarves the previous evening. The conversation gradually decayed into a verbal sparring match which caused a great deal of laughter among the group. Elrond and Glorfindel joined in, ably assisted by Celebrimbor whose dark grey eyes were dancing with a laughter that had not been seen in him for a good long time.

Seth sat at the end of the table ostensibly talking with Orgrim, Bofi and the other elders, but in fact he was watching with a feeling of considerable satisfaction as the group bonded with each other and included young Arras in the teasing. He bore it well and even threw in a few sharp comments of his own which made Celebrimbor laugh and clap him heartily on the back.

"They are good people." Orgrim said quietly, intruding on Seth's thoughts.

"Yes they are and young Arras has the makings of a good member of the team." Seth sat back in the high back wooden settle chair and smiled at the Dwarf leader.

"He has the good makings of a nuisance." Orgrim growled, but there was affection and pride beneath the crusty exterior. "You are sure that he should accompany us? He is no warrior, in fact he has not yet shown an aptitude for much. His weapons skills are negligent, his smithing is unenthusiastic and his metalwork is rudimentary. Usually by that age a young Dwarf has shown some sort of talent, but not Arras, he is a dreamer of the first order. No wonder you caught him so easily, his head is always in the clouds, he's _always_ looking for the Repositories of Dwarven lore and was most disappointed that the scrolls in the Chamber of Records were so badly damaged. I am honestly not sure _what _to do with him. Now he says he wants to find the Treasury and Mahal alone knows _where _that might be in Moria."

Seth toyed with the crumbs on his plate. "Has it ever occurred to you that his talents may lie in another direction? He has a fine inquiring mind and a raging curiosity, not to mention an obvious thirst for knowledge. The ancient Dwarves were as known for their lore-keeping as they were for their forging and metalwork. It seems to me that Arras is a prime candidate for the keeping of your records. It would be a shame if the lore of the Naugrim were to be lost for the want of someone to record it."

"A Lorekeeper?" Orgrim's mouth dropped open in surprise. "I had not even considered the possibility. We have been so busy surviving that keeping the Lore seemed the last of our troubles. Even if he was, and I agree that it would seem so, how would he learn? Where could he go to do this? There is no one here among the Gilmalk to teach him what he needs to know."

"No." Seth interrupted gently. "But the Grigori may be able to help on that score. The keepers of our Lore are the Anakim who dwell in the Western Desert of Egypt. There are many teachers among them who would be more than capable and willing to teach Arras what he needs to know and how to go about it and they would welcome an exchange of knowledge of the Elder Days, which I suspect is probably still here in Khazad-dum. They have not had a student for at least a thousand years and would welcome him, if you could spare him. Until then, he could learn the art from one who is much celebrated among his own people for his knowledge of the Lore."

Orgrim glanced along the table and nodded sagely. "You are meaning Master Elrond of course. Even we have heard of him in that respect, but you are entering a battle, will he have time to take an apprentice and would he wish to?"

"He would be delighted to do it and has already said as much...and we are not yet in a pitched battle, this is the lull before the storm. There is time and once we are engaged with the enemy, I have a feeling that young Arras will show that he is a Dwarf of quality. His weapons skill is one thing that _we_ can teach him. He has a Balrog Slayer and the King of Mirkwood to teach him how to fight."

Orgrim nodded to one of the female Dwarves as she took his plate away and shyly bobbed her head when Seth gave her one of his beautiful smiles. "If you're not careful you'll have all of our women falling in love with you." He commented, at which Seth laughed.

"I am quite surprised that they don't have beards. Celebrimbor insisted that they did used to have them and he was backed up by Thranduil and the others."

Orgrim roared with laughter and winked at him. "Strangely enough, they certainly used to. What records we do have show that during our sojourn in the south, our hair became less...er...luxuriant, both males and females. It was a source of great distress as you may imagine, a Dwarf's beard is a most important part of him or her, it is a sign of status amongst us. It was decided that this distressing situation was possibly due to the climate and hair not really being necessary to keep us warm. When we travelled north, the hair changed again, the men's beards grew profusely, much to our relief, but sadly the women did not change. Their facial hair was lost forever and now they are as you see here. But no less charming for that." He added hastily.

"I think your assumption was probably correct." Seth said thoughtfully. "I am no endocrinologist, but perhaps the female hormones had adjusted themselves to the change in climate to such an extent that it could not be reversed. It would be interesting to do some tests on their blood."

"_Experryments?_ You want to do experryments on us?" Bofi, who had been sitting silent for most of the conversation suddenly reared up in dismay.

"Peace Bofi." Seth laughed. "I understand your fear of such things and nobody will do anything to anyone without their express permission. I have far too much respect for you all to allow anyone to treat you as a laboratory rat. I merely said it would be interesting."

"We should not fear the outside world Bofi." Orgrim scolded him, albeit gently. "I think perhaps we have avoided it for far too long and now it has come upon us whether we wish it or not. Much will change now that the outside knows the city of Khazad-dum exists and we will have to change with it in order to survive." He turned to Seth. "With regard to Arras, we will do whatever is best for him, but I would be obliged if you did not speak to him with regard to being a Lorekeeper just yet. Perhaps if Master Elrond was to just talk with him about such things, as in a conversation, at least for the time being."

Seth bowed his head in assent. "Of course. I will speak to Elrond."

"Thank you." Orgrim stood up and rapped on the table to get everyone's attention. "If you are all finished eating, perhaps we can begin our excursion into Moria. Pick up your equipment and muster by the large brazier." He bent down to Seth and said in a lower voice. "I thought that we would head to the West and the Great Delving once the rest of your folk get here. It is a very large and impressive area and I would not mind getting your view as to what might be there that we could use. There are apparently many buildings and edifices, but we do not know their purpose."

They walked over to where Seth's equipment lay and Orgrim waited patiently while Seth put his webbing on and checked his weapon.

"You haven't been to the Great Delving yourself? Seth asked.

Orgrim shook his head. "Not in recent years. None of us have been back since we sent a large patrol to find Hoibur. We have not spoken of it to the rest of the clan but..." He swallowed nervously. "...Hoibur's axe was not _all _that they found. There was an area which we think was part of one of the old Palaces, a wide place of ponds and fountains in the old days, perhaps there had even been gardens there. There was evidence that there had been a goblin camp of some kind there, but long ago. The patrol went as far as the steps that led up to the palace but did not go further and there in the corner by the stairs there were some...remains... which they brought back to us secretly and we interred them as best we could, but there was no doubt that it was Hoibur. The clothes were his, but some of him was missing. We think that something took him and..." His voice failed him at this point, as though it were too shocking and terrible to put into mere words and there were tears in his deep dark eyes.

Seth's heart went out to the poor Dwarf. How hard must it have been for him to keep them all going with the dreadful knowledge of what was really happening around them. He could see great grief in the old Dwarf's eyes and it filled him with a momentary rage that even made poor Orgrim take a step back. Seth's eyes became silvery and light trickled out of the corners of them. He seemed to become much taller and dangerous, but as fast as the changes came they were gone again as Seth exercised iron control over his emotions, but it made him further resolve to either purge Moria completely or find another place for the Naugrim to go where they could be safe and move on with their lives. This was not living, not for anyone. It was surviving against terrible odds.

He put a reassuring hand on Orgrim's shoulder. "I am sorry my friend. I momentarily lost control because of my anger over your situation not because I am angry with you. I do not know_ how _you have kept morale up among your people, although I suspect that it is by keeping such terrible things from them and doing that comes with the great price of your own peace of mind and feeling of security. I assure you that I will do _everything_ in my power to make this place safe for you and if it proves impossible, then I _will _find somewhere for you to go, this I swear."

Orgrim realised at that moment that he had made a powerful friend and his heart lightened. This higher being had powerful allies who were even at this moment coming to them and with the help of the Elves and the Men who were with Seth and these others, he saw, for a blinding moment, a light at the end of the long tunnel. He could not form words to thank the Grigori instead he reached up and squeezed Seth's hand fiercely, then he cleared his throat and turned to the waiting patrol of Elves, Men and Dwarves.

"Right, is everyone ready? Then let's go adventuring!"

ooOoo

Elrond noticed that Seth's expression turned grim as they prepared to leave the encampment and he felt disquiet at it since it had only been there after he had spoken at length to Orgrim. It was very strange, he could almost _see _the terrible fury swirling under the surface of the Grigori. It appeared to Elrond as a darkening of the aura around him. Normally Seth's aura was an incredible peacock blue colour, vibrant and full of light, but when he was angered it turned a darker purple colour. At the moment it was blue one minute and purple the next indicating rapid mood changes.

He wondered, not for the first time, _why_ Seth's aura should be so visible to him. Eönwë and Radagast were the same sort of being, so why could he not see _their _aura? Although perhaps he hadn't looked close enough. He turned and peered at Radagast who was stomping along with Thranduil and Glorfindel as they passed out of the encampment area and moved into the brazier lit main part of the hall.

"Ah look, _more _columns." Thranduil commented dryly and was rewarded by a snicker from Glorfindel.

Radagast grunted. "Humph, I normally would have assumed that they supported the roof, except that the roof is actually part of the cavern system. So unless the mountain is thinking of crashing down in the next few years, which I doubt, I cannot see why they are there at all." He craned his neck and looked upwards. "Decorative...they've been put there for show and do not serve any other purpose. What do you think Elrond?"

He addressed the question to the Peredhil without actually looking at him so he didn't notice that Elrond was staring fixedly at him with an extraordinary expression on his face.

"Elrond?" Glorfindel frowned when he saw his friend standing there apparently rooted to the ground with his gaze fixed on Radagast. "Is something wrong?"

Elrond dragged his gaze away from the beautiful soft green radiance that was shifting around Radagast.

"Huh? What? No...nothing." He finally managed to look away and met his friend's concerned gaze. "Sorry, I just...it's nothing, really."

Glorfindel sighed. He knew all of Elrond's moods intimately, possibly even better than Celebrian did and he could tell when he was being shifty and evasive. "Right." He said sceptically. "Radagast was asking you if you thought the columns in the hall were merely decorative."

"Columns?" Elrond said blankly.

This time Thranduil answered him. "Yes, you know...columns, tall cylindrical pieces of stone." He gazed up at the roof of the hall and grinned to himself. "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with...c."

Elrond raised an eyebrow at him. "I _know _what a column is." He said defensively and then looked upwards. "I can see no purpose for them. They aren't holding the roof up, but they _are _rather spectacular."

"Good. We're agreed then, the columns are very nice but don't hold the roof up. Got it. Once you've seen one column you've seen 'em all." Thranduil rolled his eyes heavenward in mock boredom.

Both Radagast and Glorfindel laughed at him and he joined in with them after a few seconds. Elrond shook his head in mild despair.

"They are _very_ nice columns." He said, trying to keep a severe look on his face, but somehow that only made the others laugh all the more. "All right, all right, heaven forfend that I should launch into some sort of dissertation on them, my sons have told me more than once that I send them to sleep."

He suddenly became aware that both Thranduil and Glorfindel were staring at a point behind him with their mouths open. Even as he turned to see what they were looking at that shocked them so much, Seth was swooping past him with a huge smile on his face and his hands held out in greeting.

ooOoo

Celebrimbor and Arras had already left for the First Hall when the others were assembling for the grand tour. They would meet and then guide the Grigori newcomers to where everyone else would be. It had been decided to take a look around the Twenty-First Hall and also the Chamber of Mazarbul while Seth and the rest waited for Celebrimbor and the newcomers to catch up with them.

Arras kept up quite well with Celebrimbor's long legged fast pace and they were in the passage that led to the three steps up to the entrance of the Second Hall when the Elf suddenly whipped an arm out and stopped Arras from steaming on through the doorway. The young Dwarf caught on quickly and hastily stepped back behind his companion. Celebrimbor's hand went down to the hilt of his sword through force of habit, but he then remembered the P90 automatic weapon slung across his back and he reached for it, clicking off the safety as quietly as he could. He cocked the weapon and raised it to his shoulder in the ready position aiming it towards the doorway.

Arras held his breath. He could now see what Celebrimbor had spotted. Lights; bright lights moving across the previously gloom ridden hall down below.

"Are they friend or foe?" He whispered to the Elf. He himself was hefting his axe in both hands and trying to force down the butterflies which were fluttering around in his gut. He hoped that terror would lend him the strength to actually use it.

Celebrimbor put his finger across his lips and shook his head. Arras fell silent, wondering when the Elf would make his move. Surely he wouldn't wait until the enemy were on top of him? It seemed like years that they stood there waiting. Celebrimbor was hardly breathing, or so it seemed to Arras. He was perfectly still, like a beautiful deadly statue. Arras, however, was breathing hard enough to rattle windows.

A tall shadow was suddenly cast across the threshold of the doorway and Celebrimbor tensed, he drew in a breath and his finger trembled on the trigger. The owner of the shadow had paused just outside the door but whoever it was obviously knew Celebrimbor and Arras were there because they stayed out of sight to one side of the doorway.

Arras felt a dribble of sweat trickle down his forehead and into his beard and he discovered that he had a dreadful itch on the end of his nose that he was desperate to scratch. He was just about to surreptitiously reach up and relieve the irritation when there was a sudden blur of movement and then Celebrimbor was pinned up against the wall with a long shining sword at his throat by a being with ophidian features, silver eyes and long black hair tied back in a long braid. He seemed to be radiating his own very bright light and was at least seven foot tall, although the young Dwarf admitted afterwards that he may have just _seemed_ that tall to him. Even so, the being was at least two inches taller than Celebrimbor and he was not exactly short.

Celebrimbor's assailant stared into his eyes for a few seconds and his silvered gaze seemed to pierce right down into the Elf's very fea, then he smiled and the silver light died from his eyes. His head turned as swift as a striking snake to the doorway.

"It's an Elf and a Dwarf; our guides I think." He said to the unseen people still in the Second hall. He gave Celebrimbor a stunning smile, which lit up his whole face which had returned to more normal proportions. "I am Ezekiel and these..." He gestured to the other Grigori who had now come into the passageway, all of them tall and beautiful to look at and also radiating a glow which was similar to Celebrimbor's, only brighter. "..._these _are my brethren."

Celebrimbor was still stunned by the speed of the attack and he had to swallow his thudding heart down until it was in the right place before he could answer. These were Kerubim warriors? In full flow they were terrifying.

"You _are_ Celebrimbor are you not?" Ezekiel's eyes were filled with kindly amusement. The others stood in a row and hardly blinked or moved, they were as still as alabaster statues. "I know we were meant to wait by the bridge as per Seth's orders, but Professor Hallam suggested we cross the hall to save time."

Celebrimbor finally found his voice. "Yes, I am Celebrimbor Curufinwion and this is Arras of the Gilmalk clan. Welcome to Khazad-dum my Lords." He inclined his head in a slight bow and Arras did the same.

Ezekiel laughed. "No, no my friend, we are not Lords, we are merely warriors. You may call me Ezekiel, these others from let to right are Mithras, Baktamael, Gavriel, Abelech, Dagon, Nadiel, Nadar, Rahamael and last but not least, we have Caleb."

He pointed to each in turn as he said their name and Celebrimbor and Arras nodded weakly to them.

"Mae govannen." Celebrimbor said courteously. He placed his right hand over his heart and bowed. "Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo_."_

"Er...what the Elf said." Arras said gruffly jerking a thumb at Celebrimbor. "Pleased to meet ye."

The Grigori Kerubim all laughed and bowed almost in unison.

"Greetings, we have heard much about the grace of the Eldar, although we have never met one. What we have heard of their courtesy is not exaggerated." A red-headed Grigori, who had been introduced as Rahamael said. Then he turned to the Dwarf and squatted so that they were on eye level. "Of the Naugrim we know little, but we have heard rumours of your kind occasionally appearing from time to time on the surface of this world."

"That would be Bofi." Arras said, apparently completely unconcerned by these rather impressive beings even though everyone was now towering above him. "He _thinks_ he's an adventurer, but I think that if he saw anything dangerous he would probably faint."

Ezekiel turned to Celebrimbor and laughed in delight. "I believe I am going to like the Naugrim if this little one is anything to go by. We have already been tutored in both Sindarin and Khuzdul so communication between us all should be good."

One of the others said something in a language Celebrimbor recognised as similar to the Valarin he had heard the Maiar speaking on Valinor.

"Ah yes." Ezekiel sheathed his sword. "We are to tell you that they are beginning to floodlight the Hall behind us...the Second Hall? It should make it easier to walk across it. There is much rubble, but we have cleared a path on our way over and put torches along the path to light the way."

Celebrimbor stepped through the doorway and looked out over the balustrade. Sure enough he could see a line of torches marching across the hall. He could also see very faint lights moving at the end.

"They should be careful." He said. "When I came here to meet Arras so he could take me to their encampment, there was something in the shadows...it followed me across the hall, keeping pace with me. If I stopped, it stopped. By the time I got to the stairs it was almost at my heels making a loud noise with its breathing. The people from the dig are not warriors and the Professor should post guards just in case."

Ezekiel looked at his companions and grinned. He stepped back through the door and came to stand beside Celebrimbor. "Do you mean that creature over there?"

He pointed to the right and Celebrimbor looked down. There standing at the bottom of the stairs was a very large, bony goat. Arras, who had followed the Grigori out, sniggered.

"It's a goat." He said, rather unnecessarily. The goat bleated and looked up pleadingly.

Celebrimbor blinked. "I can see that. The question is, where did it come from?"

Ezekiel chuckled. "Would you like us to catch it so it can be interrogated?"

The laughter rippled around the group and Celebrimbor flushed with embarrassment, but he also saw the funny side and laughed as well. "Poor thing. I wonder how it managed to survive at all. Perhaps we should take it back to the encampment."

"Not necessary." Ezekiel turned away from the balustrade. "We actually tethered it and contacted Professor Hallam by radio. He is sending somebody to fetch the goat, in fact here they come now. He will find a good home for it, poor beast. It deserves a better end than to run around underground in a place like this scratching for food."

Celebrimbor frowned. "Still, it might be well to know how it got in. Or perhaps was it brought in? He turned to Arras. "Did your people bring goats with you when you first came to Moria?"

Arras shook his head. "I don't believe so. The issue of feeding them would have caused a problem. I was quite young when we arrived though and such things did not concern me overly much."

Ezekiel stared at them with hooded eyes. "In that case, someone else must have brought it in. Is there another entrance which is accessible from the outside? You spoke of your friend...Bofi? You mentioned that he thought of himself as an adventurer going onto the surface, he must have got out there somehow."

"We have asked him." Arras said doubtfully. "But he just said it was far too dangerous and it was better for everyone not to know, especially the young among us."

Ezekiel smiled down at him. "Then _we_ shall ask him. I imagine he will not keep anything from us."

Arras burst out laughing. "If _you _ask him, he may not be able to say anything at all. He will be too busy hiding under the table!"

ooOoo

Elves, Men and Dwarves watched in something approaching awe as the Grigori warrior party entered the Twenty-First Hall accompanied by a dazed looking Celebrimbor and a bouncy, cheerful Arras who was talking nineteen to the dozen with a tall beautiful man with black hair and who was three times his size in height. The rest of the Grigori were also beautiful and tall, but there the resemblance between them ended. No two had the same hair colour and their facial features varied, much as a Man's or indeed an Elf's would. They were all dressed very practically in desert type combat clothes and soft desert boots. All of them carried backpacks, along with their automatic weaponry and a pistol in a holster attached to their belts. On the other side of the belt, they each carried a long sword in an ornate scabbard.

Glorfindel's eyes gleamed when he saw the swords. In a modern world where people either didn't carry a gun or a knife at all or they overloaded themselves with guns and knives legal and illegal, the Elves often felt themselves to be anachronistic in their choice of swords, bows and the wicked looking curved daggers and long knives as a means of defending themselves. Even Thranduil who had been in Men's armies down through the millennia and used guns still preferred the sword or the bow, although he was expert in all of them.

"_Seth_ doesn't usually carry a sword." Elrond murmured as he watched Seth clasp the arms of the dark haired Grigori in an affectionate greeting and then greeted the rest in a similar fashion.

"Not that _you've_ seen." Thranduil said slyly. "I know he carries a wicked looking knife though."

"They glow." Carver remarked inanely. "Must come in handy if you lose your torch."

A ripple of laughter passed around the group. Thranduil noted that the Australian was rapidly becoming the group clown. He could be relied upon to lighten the atmosphere with completely irreverent and inappropriate humour whenever necessary, but interestingly enough, the man was astute enough to pick his moments carefully. He was a tall well-built man with a deep sun tan, a thatch of short wavy silver hair and keen blue eyes and he could handle himself well in any situation. The Elvenking had already noted him as a good man to have at one's back.

"Don't _we _glow?" Glorfindel joked with him. He pushed his lower lip out in a mock pout and allowed it to tremble.

"Sure you do." Carver responded immediately. "But it's like a sort of _girlie_ glow, not a dark ballsy sort of glow like them." He pointed at the Grigori.

"_Girlie?" _The outraged response burst from all three Elves at the same time. They advanced menacingly on Carver who immediately ducked behind Dieter. The German sighed and shook his head and the other men guffawed loudly. The Dwarves weren't entirely sure what everyone was talking about and laughed nervously.

"Now now children." Radagast decided to break up the impending riot before it even began. "Can we please behave nicely to each other and _not_ scuffle in front of the Grigori?"

Amidst the ensuing laughter Thranduil watched Elrond as his attention was drawn to the newcomers. There was a strange look on his face and he seemed to gravitate towards them like iron filings to a magnet as Seth introduced them to Orgrim first before bringing them over to the rest of the patrol. Thranduil sighed to himself. He had hoped that Elrond would be satisfied by just accepting that he had some Maia blood and that he would just explore it as another aspect of his character. Instead it was developing into a full-blown obsession as he had feared it might.

What the Peredhil_ needed_ was Celebrian to keep him grounded and remind him of important things like his family. Both Thranduil and Glorfindel had hoped that him meeting Hal would keep him on the track of looking for Arwen and Estel's descendants, but instead he had become involved with Seth. Not that this had bothered Hal of course, he wasn't going anywhere and he could answer any question Elrond might have had at any time.

Looking at the Grigori, Thranduil could understand why Elrond was becoming obsessed. Seth was charming and charismatic and judging by the look on young Arras's face it was something that all the Grigori shared. There was also that aura power that clung to him which was entirely due to being of the Ainur. Eönwë had the same aura, but if he had the almost dark, primitive core that these Grigori had, then he hid it well. This was what Seth had meant about the remit of the Valar and Maiar being very different to that of the Grigori.

_I just hope Elrond doesn't get in over his head. _Thranduil thought to himself. The Grigori version of the Maiar were not the same as the Valinorean version, but apparently only he and Glorfindel could see that...and possibly Radagast, but with him it was difficult to judge. He had never gone back to Valinor after the One Ring was destroyed and Sauron brought down, instead he had stayed, seen the ice age out with the help of the Grigori, and then just assimilated himself into the society of mortal men. Somehow he had managed to balance both worlds very nicely. Balance was something that Elrond needed. He resolved to have a word with Seth and also the Herald. Perhaps Celebrian could come back, or even Elladan.

He sighed as the patrol moved off to the south exit from the Hall. From there the road was, according to Bofi, fairly circuitous, through areas that Orgrim had told them had not been fully explored but could not be reached from the road. Instead he described brick and stone walls on either side of the road and windows set high in them giving a tantalising view of some building behind those windows.

"It is _quite_ a long way." Orgrim was saying to Seth and Ezekiel. "And the road twists and loops back on itself in places. Then we will pass the ceremonial chamber of Jazârgund which is a circular hall that forms a hub for many other sections of Durin's Way.. It is said that the chamber has seen so many rites and pronouncements throughout the ages of Moria that it was claimed that Durin's voice is engraved into the very stone from which it is hewn, and can be heard echoing through the vaulted space when all else lies silent. From there we will travel across the Lonely Span which lies just beyond the eastern gate of the Great Delving. It is the only direct passage to the streets of Zelem-melek, and is where the nobles of Khazad-dûm once resided."

They all listened in fascination to Orgrim's dissertation on the part of Moria they were about to travel to, but each felt that nothing could outdo the Gothic splendour of the Twenty-First Hall itself. It was there that the Fellowship stopped and rested before Gimli discovered the Chamber of Mazarbul and his kinsman's tomb.

"What of this place?" One of the Grigori inquired. "It is a spectacularly large place and must have served some purpose."

Orgrim puffed his chest out with pride. "Indeed you are quite correct. The Twenty-first hall is among the largest in all of Khazad-dûm, and often regarded as the most famous. In times long past a great market stood here where the Dwarves of Moria and travellers from abroad would trade in fine goods from across much of Middle-earth. Fine woods and wine and foodstuffs would be exchanged for gold and priceless gems and finely wrought pieces of smith-craft. In truth nearly anything at all could be bought or sold within this very hall, though it is hard to imagine it to look upon it now. It was once a mustering hall, but has lain empty until a few centuries ago when we arrived to take up residence. It was to this hall that he Balrog of Moria came seeking the first true challenge to his power since the deaths of Durin and his son Náin."

"This is quite fascinating." Radagast was heard to say. His brown eyes were alight with excitement. "And is it true that you found a goat back in the Second Hall Celebrimbor?"

Ezekiel snorted with laughter. "Let us just say that the goat found poor Celebrimbor as he made his way through the hall in the dark. You could even describe it as a 'Ninja Goat' since it followed him surreptitiously all the way to the staircase. I imagine it felt lonely and thought that one Elf was better than nothing at all."

This caused a great deal of hilarity of course and even the Dwarves guffawed loudly when poor Celebrimbor's quandary was translated for them.

"You can all laugh as much as you like." Celebrimbor said sulkily, but there was a sparkle of laughter in his grey eyes. "All _I_ heard was a shuffling noise and heavy breathing." Which of course led to further eruptions of laughter all round.

And so it was a merry party that exited the Twenty-first Hall and set out on the road to the Great Delving. Their last sight of the Hall was the braziers and the watchful Dwarf sentries high up in the Watchtowers.

ooOoo


	50. A Change is as good as a rest

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: ** Thanks again for the great reviews, as always they are much appreciated.

One of the things I am trying to do in this section of the story is not only explore a part of Elrond's Maiar heritage that is sadly neglected by many Fanfiction writers, but also try and show the differences between the Maiar and Valar and the Grigori.

The Grigori themselves are divided into two groups; the order of Seraphim and the order of Kerubim. Seraphim are the Archangels, the equivalent of the Valar, and the Kerubim are the second order of angel and the equivalent of the Maiar. The Grigori maintain their heavenly ranks even though they are earthbound. Seth is Kerubim. The head of his order Joaquim, Sariel and the remaining High Council members are all Seraphim. So far so good. The Ainur in Valinor and the Grigori on earth and in the Timeless Halls are all just the same sort of being, only the labels are different. However, there is actually a whole world of difference between the fairly laissez faire Valar and the relatively benevolent Maiar who serve them and the Grigori and rest of the Ainur. The Valar and Maiar are the 'light' version of the Ainur so to speak, except perhaps for Namo, who is closer to the Grigori in nature simply because of who he is.

The Seraphim are fierce beings. They do not hold power over any realm themselves but can wield it in the name of Eru if they are commanded to. They are primarily Messengers of God, warriors of Light and command the Armies of the Host under the Archangel Michael. The Kerubim or Cherubim, are also fierce warriors, but their main remit is to act as guardians of the throne of Eru and they also issue punishment to transgressors. To summon them in their true spiritual form is to risk unleashing the direct power of God and only certain beings have the ability to summon them in that form and for that purpose. Both Seraphim and Kerubim are much to be feared.

By going down to take charge of Arda, the Valar and Maiar were automatically granted a certain amount of autonomy from Eru and the Timeless Halls. They were more or less left alone to administer Arda and Eru only interfered when the they requested it; i.e. When Ar-Pharazôn was convinced by Sauron to break the ban of the Valar and attack Valinor in in S.A. 3310. The Valar then laid down their guardianship of the world and called upon Eru Ilúvatar, who sank the invasion fleet and all of Númenor beneath the ocean and changed the shape of the world so that Valinor was no longer connected to Middle-earth.

Elrond had never seen the light of the Two Trees. He was born in Middle-earth and only _part _of his heritage was Maiar. These are the facts as laid out by the good Professor.

For the purposes of this story I have indulged in some poetic licence._ Because _he wasn't living under the grace of the Valar during his sojourn in Middle-earth, his Maiar side lay dormant for the most part and the Elven side of him was allowed to take charge simply because it was the most predominant.

Once he left Middle-earth and went to live in Valinor under the grace of the Valar, his Maiar part began to niggle at him. He has been undergoing some fairly minor changes but wasn't sure why until he came back to modern Middle-earth. For the most part he has been keeping quiet about these changes, not even mentioning them to Celebrian or his sons so as not to worry her. Now, in the company of a very charismatic group of Ainur, he finally feels that he _might_ get the answers to his questions about the changes in him from them, since the Valar had not seemed to take any undue notice of him. Thranduil does seem like a mother hen over him, but he is just concerned that in seeking out more knowledge of his Maiar heritage, he may lose himself and in doing so distance himself from his family and friends.

"For God commands the angels to guard you in all your ways.  
With their hands they shall support you,  
lest you strike your foot against a stone."

_**Psalm **__**91:11-12 **_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 50 – A Change is as good as a rest**

**The Great Delving of Moria**

At first, it looked very much like a wide tunnel in a cave. For the first half a mile of the road leading to Jazârgund and thence onto the Great Delving there was just high grey rock walls on either side until they met the roof. The road itself was remarkably rubble free and as they walked one of the Dwarves duly lit the torches in the sconces which were studded into the sheer rock. Nobody was speaking and the only sounds that could be heard in the deathly silence were the party's footfalls, the occasional creak of leather and an occasional plop which indicated the presence of water somewhere.

Thranduil and Ezekiel were at the head of the party, having taken point, followed by Orgrim, Seth and Radagast and the rest of the party with Glorfindel, Elrond and two of the Grigori bringing up the rear. The other Grigori warriors flanked the whole party.

It was almost a small army that traversed the road to Jazârgund and Orgrim was glad of it. The road there was safe enough, at least until they reached the meeting of the ways at Jazârgund. From there they could swing immediately left and go on towards Durin's Way, to the right was the Chamber itself and straight on up the wide steps and then left through the archway led to the Lonely Span. Most of the palaces and treasuries were that way, some clinging high up to the rock face and others down many more wide steps and ramps. The main plazas of the Great Delving, Dolven-view, however were straight along from there and then up many flights of stairs. Orgrim felt a strange curdling sensation in his gut whenever he thought of going there. From there the road led down to the Silvertine Lodes.

_We should be safe._ He chastised himself firmly. _We have many strong fierce warriors with us. It will not be like last time._

Yet his gut _would_ keep churning despite the comforting presence of the others, even if they _were _armed to the teeth with those strange weapons they called 'guns'.

"What can you recall of this Great Delving." Glorfindel asked Celebrimbor quietly.

Celebrimbor thought for a moment. "It is a massive area." He admitted. "And more made up out of a number of areas than a single one. Much of the Great Delving is an unexpected juxtaposition of Dwarf-cut masterworks and raw, unshaped stone. The Great Delving encompasses three distinct areas. At its western end sits Durin's Threshold, an entryway, reception hall, and hostel for travellers from Eregion and beyond. This is the entrance I was more used to enter by as the Dimrill gate sits east at the other side of the mountain leading down to Mirrormere and thence to the woods of Laurelindorenan. At its eastern end stood the plazas and bridges of the Dolven-view, a wide and chasmic connector dominated by grand gateways of breathtaking craftsmanship. The ground in between consists of a finely wrought thoroughfare, called Lamâb-dûm and a network of loose caverns and tunnels, all of which connect Durin's Threshold with the Dolven-view."

"It sounds so majestic." Glorfindel murmured. "Such workmanship and splendour, all lost to those orc and goblin vermin. All these places, once meant to welcome and unify the folk of Middle-earth, became contested ground, caught in the Enemy's dark grip. And now the remains of great works are crumbling back into the earth."

Elrond was silent. He had been thoughtful ever since the arrival of the Grigori from Vevey. Part of him wanted desperately to talk to one of those formidable looking Kerubim, but the other part of him, the Elven part, was urging caution. He searched inside himself for the link with Celebrian as a source of comfort and found it very faint, just there enough for him to reassure himself that she was still alive. _It has to be this place._ He thought. _It's damping down my bond with her._

What other reason could there be? They were so far underground that somehow he could not feel her properly. He was reluctant to speak to Radagast about it since it seemed a minor issue compared with their mammoth task in Moria. He sighed deeply to himself and kept walking. His feet felt like lead weights in these awful boots they were wearing. How on earth did anyone manage to get anywhere fast in this day and age encumbered with all of this equipment and heavy clothing? Although to be fair it probably didn't even weigh as much as his mail armour had weighed during the Last Alliance.

That last thought put him in a happier frame of mind. Ereinion was here, back in Middle-earth, now that _was s_omething to look forward to and Celebrian was with him and the Herald and also a whole host of folk that Elrond would trust with his life. He needed to concentrate on the matter at hand and when they got back to the dig he would have a good talk with Hal Kenwood. So far there hadn't been an opportunity for a proper discussion with him and after all his link with them was what he had come to Middle-earth to discover, not to explore his Maiar side, as tantalising as its siren call was to him.

Having suddenly decided to take a more positive attitude, Elrond found himself cheering up. He set his shoulders straight and indulged in a nonsensical conversation with Glorfindel as they walked. He didn't fail to notice the look of distinct relief in the Balrog Slayer's eyes when he did so.

Thranduil was bored, but in his usual inimitable manner he wasn't showing it at all. He appeared as alert and keen as the black-haired Ezekiel in the execution of his duties on point. As they marched through Moria his mind flew to his son, Legolas. While Legolas had come through Moria at the height of its dangers he had not wished to speak of his experience except to say that it was an oppressive place, even more so because it was so far under the ground. Thranduil had probably seen more of the place than Legolas in his flight through and so far he was impressed, even though building works of a gargantuan nature weren't exactly his cup of tea. The Dwarves had accomplished much and as a race they were beginning to nurture, if not an actual liking, but at least a grain of respect in the former Elvenking.

He huffed a sigh and pushed his heavy mane of hair to one side over his shoulder. Somewhere in Moria he had lost the elastic band he had tied his hair up with and it was annoying him. What he really wanted was to go to his apartment in Paris, have a nice long hot shower in his luxurious shower room with jets that sprayed hot water all over him and didn't trickle out in a pathetic dribble the way the showers back at the dig did. He swore he could pee faster than that shower. Thranduil could rough it with the best of them but he still loved luxury. He idly wondered to himself if Seth would give him a day off. He could travel to Paris in just a couple of hours, probably less. Hell, he could be back the same day. He sighed again.

"Here." With a gentle smile Ezekiel handed Thranduil a long thin strip of softened leather. "I can see that your hair is bothering you. Give me your weapon to hold while you braid your hair."

Thranduil flushed slightly. "Thanks." He muttered and handed his weapon to Ezekiel who then wielded both weapons with ease as though they weighted no more than a child's plastic toy gun. "I lost mine somewhere along the road from the Dimrill Gate to Orgrim's encampment."

Ezekiel smiled his beautiful smile again revealing a perfect set of gleaming white teeth. "It is of no matter." He shrugged. "I was trying to figure out a way of starting a conversation with you. You looked so grim, as do your Elven companions."

Thranduil's mouth dropped open and he finished braiding his hair which of course now clearly showed the leaf shaped ears and their delicate point. Here he was thinking that the Grigori looked formidable and they were clearly thinking the same about the Elves. He grinned apologetically at the Grigori and accepted his weapon back off him.

"I think we were thinking the same of you my Lord."

Ezekiel raised an eyebrow. "What is it with you Elves and your 'my Lord'? Celebrimbor addressed us the same way when we met earlier."

Thranduil was a bit taken aback by the question. "Er...well, I suppose it's because we've had it drummed into us that respect is owed to the Valar and the Maiar, and...well...you are a sort of Maia aren't you?"

"I am an earthbound Kerubim." Ezekiel said bluntly. "I was one of those who remained after the others were recalled to the Timeless Halls. We have had to survive here much as you did when the Eldar left. It changed us much from our brethren still in the Halls. But you have said that this is a gesture of respect towards the Maiar who are our close brethren in Valinor. Do they demand such respect then? I only ask because this is not what we know of Radagast who has been with us since the ice covered this planet."

Thranduil thought about the only interaction he had ever had with Maiar in the shape of Eönwë, Radagast, Mithrandir and Saruman. "No...well at least, not all. Lord Eönwë is the Herald of Lord Manwe and I suppose we give him the appellation of lord because of his status, not because he demands it. I think he gets frustrated when we do it but accepts it with a good grace. Radagast is a very dear friend of long-standing. I can't imagine calling him 'my lord' under any circumstances, nor Mithrandir when he was here. Saruman...he was something else entirely. Yes I do believe that he enjoyed people bowing and scraping to him. In fact he thought it was his due, but he got his comeuppance during the War of the Ring. I know little of the Maiar in the blessed Realm since I chose not to sail there, but I believe that I would refer to the Valar as lord and lady. It seems a fitting way to address them."

Ezekiel looked as though he were about to reply and then his head snaked around so fast that it practically gave Thranduil whiplash. Ezekiel had frozen and, to Thranduil's fascination, he saw the Kerubim warrior's features actually lengthen and alter. His face narrowed, his cheekbones seemed to shift higher and his eyes got that silvered, almond shape that Seth's had on a few occasions. Thranduil hissed slightly as he felt the terrible power of these creatures; a power bound beneath their calm, seemingly human exterior by the command of Eru and he could also feel their frustration at not able to fully to exercise it. They may pass as humans, but they were patently not human.

Thranduil abruptly put his hand up to halt the others and was not surprised when Seth came forward to join them.

"What is it Ezekiel?"

Ezekiel was looking up at the top part of the wall where, to Thranduil's surprise, there was no longer blank rock. Instead at the top of the sheer rock face was the outside of some kind of building. The arched windows were blank and black giving no indication of what might lie beyond them. At the base of the building was a hole in the wall with some kind of shallow channel. The trickle of water was louder here and the whole party could now see that it was flowing from the channel in what must have been some kind of drainpipe of sorts. It pooled briefly at the bottom before flowing down the side of the road in the form of a small stream.

_The Naugrim version of drainage no doubt._ Thranduil thought to himself.

"There is a creature beyond those walls." Ezekiel said softly. "Perhaps more than one."

Seth turned to Orgrim. "What lies beyond this section of wall?"

Orgrim spoke to one of the other Dwarves, a stately looking Naugrim with a long grey beard. Although he carried mostly rolled scrolls and maps in his pack, he did carry two lethal looking axes at his belt. The Dwarf, whose name was Hifur, squatted down on the rocky, dusty floor, opened his pack and unrolled one map. He looked up at the wall with its blank windows, then around the tunnel and frowned. He rolled that map up and unrolled another. Elrond and Glorfindel hunkered down beside him, as did Arras and Celebrimbor, moments later they were all poring over the map and speaking in hushed Khuzdul. Orgrim made no attempt to join in the discussion. Instead he stood quietly waiting for them to finish.

In the deep silence of Moria all _anybody_ could hear was the rustling of the parchment, the trickling of water and the echoes, but as Thranduil strained to hear what it was that Ezekiel had noticed, he suddenly heard a very soft tapping, almost as though some kind of message was being tapped out in code behind the walls. He glanced swiftly at Ezekiel and Seth, who had been joined by the red-haired Grigori Rahamael. Ezekiel answered his look with a swift nod of his head.

"You can hear it?"

Thranduil nodded and his face was grim. "I hear it. It seems that we are definitely not alone."

ooOoo

**The Residence of Brigadier Gary Matthews, Hampshire, England**

"I can't feel him properly."

Eönwë looked up in concern as a very agitated Celebrian rushed in through his study door. He stood up and led the distressed lady to one of the deep armchairs. He poured her a cup of tea from the pot on the tray that Nerdanel had brought him earlier and leaned casually against the desk instead of sitting down because the other armchair contained Allie, curled up fast asleep with Bear and with her chubby thumb firmly in her mouth. Almost out of force of habit Celebrian leaned over and gently removed the child's thumb. Allie mumbled some childish nonsense to herself and immediately returned the thumb to her mouth.

"It's not good for her to suck her thumb Eönwë. Her adult teeth won't come through properly." Celebrian said distractedly.

"Indeed." Eönwë was mildly amused by her motherly action, but forbore to tell her that as a Maiar child, her teeth would probably be fine. "What is this about Elrond and your bond?"

He gently probed her as he leant down, whispered softly into Allie's ear and gently removed her thumb again. This time it remained out of her mouth.

Celebrian took a deep breath. "I am not sure. I felt him trying to connect with me and it seemed no more than a slight brush, not the strong connection we usually have. So I tried from my side and I can barely feel him. Something is wrong I _know_ it. I must go to him."

Eönwë thought for a moment and then accessed his link with Kim. He needed to know if it was something Herumor was doing or whether it was specific to Elrond and Celebrian. He decided to ask Finrod to do the same just to be sure.

_Beloved?_

Almost immediately the answer came. Kim no longer feared her husband contacting her in this way, they had been bonded properly physically and mentally since their daughter was born.

_What's up doc?_

Celebrian saw Eönwë laugh to himself and knew by the distant look in his eyes that he was communing with someone in Valinor, most probably his wife. Which, of course, only made her more anxious. If Eönwë could contact Kim then it _wasn't_ something Herumor was doing. Something had to have happened to Elrond over there in Moria.

_It's nothing._ Eönwë thought to his wife. _I was just wondering how you were faring over there._

_Checking up on me huh?_ Kim's thoughts were bright and bubbly. _I'm fine, this place is awesome and Ilmare and the others are so cool. And I met up with Melannen, Rion and Noruthalion, the three guys from the War of Wrath...did you know Melannen was Lord Ingwe's son? _There was a sudden abrupt stop to her rambling and her thoughts took on an anxious tone._ Allie...it's Allie right? She's not ill is she?_

Eönwë hastened to reassure her that all was well and very quiet in Middle-earth at the moment.

_Well, make the most of it._ Kim's voice had turned sober. _Raguel, Lord Manwe and the others seem to think things will hot up a bit once Elrond and the others get deeper into Moria._

_Yes. Lord Manwe has already intimated as much to me. The real reason I am communing with you apart from telling you how much I love and miss you, was to check that our link was still intact. It seems that Celebrian can barely feel Elrond._

There was a slight delay before she answered. _Sorry darling. Lord Manwe and Raguel are here with me, I was just asking them what they thought._

Eönwë felt great pride in her. It was as if she had matured a couple of thousand years in a few days. Apparently the Valar bringing her to Valinor had been the right thing to do. _And what do they think?_

_Apparently it's nothing to do with Herumor, Raguel says. He says it's something to do with Elrond's Maiar blood. It's being enhanced by the presence of other Ainur, people like Seth and his group. _She hesitated again as though they were talking to her while she was connected with him. _He says they are very different to the other Ainur that Elrond has come to know and their influence is a lot more...erm...I think he means that the Grigori are a lot more 'in your face' than the Valar and Maiar but that's not what he actually said. They say you should disincarnate and go into Moria to speak to Seth and Elrond. Preferably before they go further in. _

_Eönwë? _Another voice broke into his communion._ My sincere apologies for disturbing your communion with your delightful wife, but you need travel to Moria to ask Seth to set up a barrier between the Grigori and Elrond. Sooner rather than later in fact. This is not a good time for him to access his Maiar bloodline, it will weaken him. It is already weakening him considerably if his link with his wife is so faint. As Kim says you must go and speak with them before they get deeper into Moria. He can explore that side of him later when they are in a place of safety. Seth, Joaquim and the others will be delighted to help him then. Manwe suggests that you take their son; Elladan is it? Yes, take him with you since he is blood kin and will add his strength to his father's. Lord Manwe and the other Valar send their deepest love to you by the way._

Eönwë sent his respectful assent to Raguel. He was well aware of the power of this particular Ainur as he came directly from Eru.

_I'll hand you back to Kim._ Raguel sounded amused and then closed his link. The communion was then blissfully private between husband and wife.

Celebrian waited with barely concealed impatience until the silvered look left the Herald's eyes.

"Well?" She demanded.

"I have spoken with Kim and also Raguel, the Seraphim sent by Eru to Lord Manwe. Apparently your husband's Maiar side has been affected by the Grigori, who are a lot more direct in their dealings than the Valar and Maiar are. My instructions are to travel there..."

"I'm coming with you." Celebrian interrupted him imperiously before he could go further.

Eönwë laughed and put his arm around her shoulder. "I know you feel that way child and my heart is with you, but my instructions are to take Elladan with me and to help Seth set up a barrier between the Grigori and Elrond, just for the moment while they are going deeper into Moria."

"Why can't I come?" The distress was palpable in Celebrian's tremulous voice.

"Because your presence would distract Elrond and they all need to be on their toes. I know that Elladan's presence may also distract him, but he knows what a fine warrior Elladan is and you must admit that Elrond can be a bit..."

Celebrian interrupted him again. "Overprotective where I am concerned?" Her tone was dry and amused.

"I was going for concerned." Eönwë grinned at her. "But overprotective is probably a lot more accurate. Celebrian, I _personally_ know that you would be more than able to pull your weight. I have seen you sparring with Elladan, Haldir and Maksim and I am most impressed with your abilities. The trouble is not you, but your husband. It would severely disrupt the effectiveness of the group if Elrond were to be constantly worrying about your safety before the welfare of everyone else. How do you feel about Elladan going in your place? As blood kin he can act as a conduit between you and Elrond for the time being until Seth and the other Grigori can talk to him properly."

"Where am I going Naneth? Lord Eönwë." Elladan had seen his mother in the study with Eönwë and came into the room. He inclined his head to the Herald, looked from one to the other and then faltered a little at their grave expressions. "Ada...Ada is all right isn't he?"

"Please sit down Elladan." Eönwë's tone was pleasant and reassuring. "Your Ada is fine, but your Naneth and I have something to discuss with you."

ooOoo

**The Great Delving of Moria**

"We have reached a point in this convoluted road where it backs onto what were originally the great gardens of Durin, where his statue stood and where the great fountains poured their waters down into the streams which watered them." Hifur finally announced. "According to the map, it seems that to go on to Dolven-view by way of Jazârgund would have meant that we should have traversed the gardens and turned south and by-passed the Chamber of the Crossroads altogether. We should have used the exit that takes us past the Chamber of Mazarbul instead of the south exit. But it appears that this way is a more direct route to the Great Delving and takes us straight to the Chamber of the Crossroads. If the noises we are hearing are coming from the gardens behind these walls, then we would have to backtrack back into the Twenty-first Hall to find out who is making them."

Seth frowned and thought for a moment. "It seems that Moria was built as a maze." He finally commented. "No matter. It was to the Great Delving and Dolven-view that we wished to go to and from there down into this Silvertine, so let us keep to our plans. I daresay whoever is behind these walls is not going anywhere, but it occurs to me that if whoever it is feels under threat by our exploration, they may head to your encampment Orgrim. Especially if they think that a large body has left to go exploring. They may assume that the camp is unguarded."

Orgrim looked horrified. "They are but lightly guarded my Lord. Females and younglings and but a few males along with the elderly, as you saw for yourself. I cannot stay. I must go back and see to the defences of the camp and leave the rest in your capable hands."

"Peace Orgrim." Seth laid a hand on the Dwarf's arm in reassurance. "You shall go back, but you will not go alone. Nadiel and three others from the Grigori will go back with you. They will cast a barrier around your encampment and no one will get through by force of arms or any other means." He nodded to the dark-haired Nadiel and three of the other Grigori who immediately separated themselves from the group.

Orgrim caught at Seth's hands and was effusive in his thanks and relief. "I _cannot_ thank you all enough. It is more than I could or would have asked for. Much more. I will leave Hifur, Bofi and Arras with your group. They can guide you the rest of the way and uphold the honour of the Gilmalk." He was practically sobbing with relief.

Moments later Orgrim and the four Grigori warriors had left the group and were hastening back to the Twenty-first Hall.

"Now." Seth said grimly. "I think we will stay on this road and pass through this Chamber of the Crossroads. You have the maps Master Hifur. We are in your capable hands."

Hifur bowed so deeply that his beard trailed the dusty ground. "It shall be my honour my Lord."

"We should remember that we are now five men down and therefore must be extra vigilant." Seth said to the rest of the group. "Ezekiel and Thranduil would you take point again please?"

Elf and Grigori nodded and the group prepared to head out again.

They had not gone more than a few paces when Ezekiel noticed a shift in the fabric of space in front of him. He raised his hand and the group shuddered to a halt once again. This time there was no need for Seth to ask what Ezekiel had seen or heard. He had seen the shift as well. Only an Ainur could sense when another Ainur was about to clothe themselves in flesh. The Grigori and Radagast could sense two separate beings seconds before they materialised in the passageway in front of everyone.

"Elladan!" Elrond's glad cry rang out as the tall form of his son could be seen. Elladan staggered slightly as he recovered from the unusual mode of transport and was immediately supported by the strong arm of Eönwë himself who had also materialised.

"Whoa...head rush." Elladan stuttered as he clung onto Eönwë's arm for support until he regained his equilibrium. "That was _awesome_."

"He doesn't sound like an Elf." Remarked Rahamael. "He sounds more like a California surfer dude."

Carver burst out laughing at that comment and the other Grigori chuckled. Thranduil, Hal and Radagast all hooted with laughter, but the reference was entirely lost on the Dwarves, Celebrimbor, Elrond and Glorfindel .

"Television I deem." Elrond said grimly as he stepped forward to greet his son who was kitted out, courtesy of Eönwë, in army combats with similar webbing to that which the patrol wore and he carried his sword, his bow, a quiver of arrows and a P90. "That infernal television has much to answer for."

"I hear ya." Carver said, still chuckling. "It's like kids're talking a foreign language these days."

For the first time Eönwë and Seth met face to face and the resemblance between them was rather remarkable.

"You could be twins." Said Ezekiel.

"I'm much prettier." Seth quipped and Eönwë laughed softly.

"But I have the charm and the brains." He finished the sentence with a wink at Seth who grinned back at him.

Thranduil could see differences despite their very similar appearances. Eönwë was slightly taller than Seth, who was broader built. However they both had similar body shapes, broad shoulders, slim waist and hips. Eönwë's facial features were finer than Seth's and the deep dimples that creased Seth's face and gave him that very boyish look were missing in Eönwë whose mien was more grave. Other than that they were _very_ alike. Their eyes were the same dark blue, their hair the same rich golden brown and their smile as beautiful.

"To what do we owe the abrupt honour?" Seth asked Eönwë with a smile. He turned to Elladan. "And you must be Elrond's son. Strangely enough I was going to request that Eönwë sent you over here to us. We need you more than Eönwë does." He held out his hand to Elladan who took it. "Welcome to Moria. I am Seth Falconer of the Grigori."

ooOoo

For the second time in there so far short journey, the group of assorted races stopped and this time they broke out the makings for a brew while Seth, Eönwë, Radagast and Ezekiel held a whispered pow-wow a few feet away. Elrond and Elladan were busy catching up on happenings over in England. Thranduil, Glorfindel, Dieter and one of the Grigori, called Baktamael were standing guard over everyone.

Every now and then either Seth or Radagast would glance over at Elrond and each time they did the Elf Lord was horribly aware that he was the subject of the whispered discussion but he tried not to dwell on it. He accepted a mug of hot sweet tea from Carver who laid a comforting hand on his shoulder before heading back to the others and his own brew. Elrond smiled and nodded his thanks, but his attention was clearly on Eönwë and the others.

"He seems like a pleasant man Ada." Elladan's comment broke his reverie.

Elrond looked into the bright eyes of his son and felt comforted by his presence. "Carver? Yes, he is a pleasant man, very reminiscent of Elros somehow, although I am not quite sure why. He has the same irreverent sense of humour my brother...your uncle...had, although in looks they could not be more different. He is from a city called Sydney in a country called Australia and makes many jokes about being descended from convicts. It's very strange, but he seems to instinctively know when to say something humorous."

Elladan sipped his own tea. "Do you think he is descended from the Dunedain like Hal? In fact have you spoken at all to Hal?"

Elrond flushed. "Not yet."

He felt an immediate rush of guilt about that. He had been so consumed by exploring that part of his bloodline which had fallen into memory until he came back to Middle-earth that he had neglected the very thing that had galvanised him into coming here in the first place.

Elladan knew his father well. Well enough to realise that Elrond was about to embark on what modern humans called 'a guilt trip'. He gave him a quizzical look and decided to fan the flames a little.

"He is definitely not unlike his ancestor Ada, the more Naneth and I talked with him the more we realised just _how _like Halbarad he is."

"I kept meaning to but..." Elrond's voice trailed off and he shifted uncomfortably under his son's keen grey eyes.

"You got buried under a whole heap of Grigori?" There was a hint of laughter in Elladan's voice, but his tone grew serious again. "Naneth is worried about you and so am I. She says that she could hardly feel your bond with her."

Elrond felt utterly ashamed and he dropped his head slightly, unable to meet the question in his son's eyes. "I know...I know."

"Ada. Lord Eönwë spoke to me of this. Apparently the Valar say that your bond has weakened because of the influence of the Grigori. Not that they are doing anything themselves, but their true nature is darker than the Valar or the Maiar and closer to the surface. Lord Eönwë says that you need special preparation to expose yourself to that nature, whatever _that_ means. In the meantime Seth and his brethren will create a barrier which will make it more comfortable for you to be with them. Naneth wanted to come to you, but we both know that her presence would only distract you further. The Ainur who is with the Valar, his name is Raguel, suggested that I came in her stead, since we are blood kin and I can help strengthen you through my bond with both of you. Don't get lost in this, there will be time enough to ask questions when we are out of..."

"I can see their auras..." Elrond interrupted abruptly "I could never see the auras of the Valar or the Maiar, but now I can see Radagast's aura...it's a bright green and Eönwë's is a bright blue, similar to Seth's but a slightly different shade. The others..." He waved his hand at the other Grigori. "Theirs is also blue, but of varying shades. I thought perhaps something was wrong with my eyesight at first. Sometimes, I can hear random snatches of their thoughts and I can also sometimes see their true face. They can be terrible in their fury Elladan...and they have more than one face."

"I have no doubt that they can be as terrible as they can be kind and wise Ada. I think the Valar and Raguel are right; you are seeing things that you are not quite ready to see. _Please_...wait until you are free of this oppressive place and then talk to Seth and the others. Being in Moria isn't helping either." Elladan shivered and glanced around him. "Boromir was right when he described it as a tomb. It is a place of the dead and filled with ghosts. How those brave Naugrim have survived and remained sane is a wonder. Aule must have been watching over them."

"They are barely surviving my son." Elrond said wearily. "And those children need to see the sunshine. Seth says he has requested help from the High Council of the Grigori for them."

"Seth is an honourable man." Elladan said gently. "Lord Eönwë thinks highly of him and he also speaks highly of the leader of the Grigori, Joaquim de Salvo. If Seth says he has asked for help for the Naugrim, then that is what they will get. I understand that when Kim returns from Valinor, she and Eönwë will travel with Allie to their headquarters in Vevey to meet with them. No doubt the matter will be discussed then and some arrangements made to help them. Ereinion will remain behind to look after things in the household. He, Erestor, Haldir and the others send much love to you and Finrod says to be strong. Once Seth and Eönwë have created the barrier you will feel much better and then you can speak to Naneth through your bond."

Seth and Eönwë had finished their discussion by this time and as soon as they saw a natural break in the conversation between father and son they came over to them. Radagast joined them after a moment.

Glorfindel watched the discussion and the earnest conversation between father and son with a weather eye. He felt a little disappointed that Elrond had not confided his troubles in him as they had done with each other down through the years, but it all seemed part of Elrond unconsciously trying to distance himself from everyone. He felt Thranduil's keen emerald gaze on him, grinned at him and gave a small shrug.

"He will be all right Glorfindel." Thranduil said firmly.

Ezekiel's head turned towards the Balrog Slayer. "Glorfindel? _The _Balrog Slayer? You are he?"

Thranduil chuckled and slapped the Grigori on his back. "The very same my friend and I am sure you will want to hear every detail of _that _story! If only just to save the rest of us from hearing it yet again...and again..."

Ezekiel raised an eyebrow at Glorfindel who shot a dark glance at the Elvenking. "I will have my revenge for that Oropherian, just you wait and see if I don't."

Thranduil shrugged. "Meh...better Men and Elves than you have tried."

ooOoo

Eönwë decided to stay with the group in Moria until they reached the Chamber of the Crossroads. There he, the Grigori and Radagast would create the barrier for Elrond. The Chamber was a convenient camping spot in any case, according to Hifur, and easily defensible if necessary. It also held one inner chamber where they could have peace in which to carry out this task. If time allowed Eönwë would also accompany them as far as the Dolven-view and Seth was glad to have him there.

Elrond of course felt embarrassed and not a little chagrined that it was he who was creating an obstacle to their progress and said as much, only to be told in no uncertain terms by Eönwë of all people that he was being a martyr unnecessarily and would he please stop doing it because it was very annoying. All of which, of course, caused Elladan, Thranduil and Glorfindel to collapse with helpless laughter at Elrond's mortified expression at being chastised by the Herald. Only Seth's wink behind Eönwë's back and the twinkle in his blue eyes made the Peredhil feel any better.

"Seth, I saw that." Eönwë said sternly without even turning. "Stop encouraging Elrond's martyrdom streak."

The Dwarves watched the by-play with something approaching astonishment. What with beautiful unearthly men appearing apparently out of thin air, noises behind walls where there should not be and the bright laughter that lifted the shadows...whatever next? Mahal himself appearing in all his glory? Truly the lives of the Naugrim had been grim and dark since their return to this ancestral home, as the elders had called it, but they had made the best of it. Perhaps these beings and these capable looking specimens of the race of Men would be able to help get the machinery in the Waterworks to start grinding and then the mirrors could be re-aligned and then Moria...no Khazad-dûm...would be revealed in its splendour once more. Although many of the great works of the Dwarves had long since crumbled back into the stone from whence they came.

According to time above on the surface it was midday by the time they traversed the winding passageway in between the grey walls to its end. At one point they passed by a heavy wooden door set into the wall which had two long low stone steps leading up to it and what looked like a large stone seat set to one side.

"It's for a Doorward." Hifur said knowledgeably and he checked the map of the area that he was carrying in his hand. "This is one of the many libraries that litter the entire city, according to this map."

Eönwë and Seth examined the door closely but could find nothing that looked anything like a door handle or a lock.

"I imagine it's opened by a password of sorts." Radagast said mildly. "It was a common habit of Dwarves to protect their important assets by setting runes into the doors, although it is unusual that they did it with wood. It was usually metal or stone. One only has to find the right word to use and it will unlock the door."

Seth frowned. "This will have to wait for another day. We have already lost too much time and I would like to get to Dolven-view before the day is through...not that we can see night or day down here. However our body clocks will recognise what part of the day it is and we will need to rest later on after a meal. As it is we will need to stop at the Chamber of the Crossroads before we continue on to more potentially dangerous areas anyway."

"How far is it to this Chamber?" Eönwë spoke in flawless Khuzdul addressing his question to Hifur, who swallowed nervously at being asked anything at all by thistall, rather splendid, but businesslike looking modern soldier.

The Herald was dressed in his combats and high black leather boots. He carried webbing and weapons like Elladan, but where Elladan's combats were unadorned, Eönwë's held his insignia of rank of three pips and a crown which sat on a tab on the front of his jacket and the red tabs on his shirt collar clearly indicated that he was a Staff Officer in the British Army. He wasn't wearing his beret, that was folded up and shoved through his right epaulette, but that was also black with an embroidered cap badge on it indicating that he held the Queen's Commission.

"Err...um...it is not far my Lord." Hifur stuttered nervously. "The passage straightens out for about two hundred paces beyond this next bend and then there should be a wide circular area with three exits. One immediately sharp left travels back towards Durin's Way, one goes straight on towards Dolven-view and the turn off to the right goes directly into the Chamber."

Even as he spoke Ezekiel and Thranduil had been scouting the way ahead. They suddenly appeared from the relative gloom with their torches extinguished and only a faint glow emanating from their bodies illuminated them. Both of them looked grim.

"We have trouble." Ezekiel lost no time in giving them the bad news. "We saw a flickering up ahead and decided to go on to see what it was. There are a group of...creatures....ahead camped in that circular place that Hifur has described to you. Thranduil says that they are similar to what he calls orcs. Some are mounted on what look like a cross between a massive wolf and a bear."

"Wargs." Celebrimbor and Elladan both hissed at the same time.

Ezekiel nodded. "Indeed, that is what Thranduil called them. I will say that their sense of smell is highly developed and they know we are here. They could smell Thranduil, but not myself. I shielded him and we came back quickly."

"How in the world have they survived down here with no light? What did they do for food?" Elrond whispered.

Eönwë looked grim. "That is immaterial at the moment Master Elrond. The fact is that they _have_ survived. What weaponry do they have?"

"From what I saw, they have spears, rudely crafted axes and heavy metal swords. Some have bows." Thranduil spoke up immediately. "If they fight true to form, their weapons will be coated with poison."

The three remaining Dwarves had gone pale. Arras could feel his heart beating high in his throat. The Elves, Men and Grigori readied their weaponry and awaited a command to advance. Elrond checked his modern First Aid kit and his pack of herbal medicines. These may be needed by the end of the day. Seth and Eönwë conferred with Ezekiel and Thranduil for a moment and then Seth turned to the group.

"Our fire-power is superior without a doubt, but we are going to try and take one or more prisoners to interrogate. We need to know how they got down here and how many there are. For all we know Herumor has been growing an army down here and equipping them ready for the battle on the surface. This group may just be a vanguard." He gave a grim smile and a fell light appeared on his face, an expression that was mirrored by Eönwë and the rest of the Grigori. He gestured for them all to gather around him.

"_This _how it's going to go down."

ooOoo


	51. Smile now, tomorrow may be worse

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: ** Again, thanks to all of you who took the time to review. . I have corrected an earlier error which I spotted but was too tired to correct late last night and which was spotted by Chisscientist. Thank you for pointing this out. I do realise that I have included a whole race of beings into the Tolkien world but their origins are in fact documented in various works ranging from the Book of Enoch, early archaeological and anthropological research in Iraq, the mountains of Kurdistan and the borders of Iran which took place in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Obviously such research was brought to a halt by the unsettled political and military events in that region of the world. My version of the 'angels' is based on five years of research and reading and is a mixture of fact and fantasy and should be accepted as such. The Book of Enoch deals with the angels who fell and who fathered the Nephilim and also with Enoch's trip through heaven in which he was escorted by Raguel. Those angels are referred to as Watchers (the word Grigori is a direct Greek translation of the word Watcher, meaning Those Who Watch and Never Sleep. They were also known as the Shining Serpents by the early peoples of Sumeria because of their physical appearance) The Book of Enoch is a set of very early writings by Enoch who was the father of Noah. It is very likely that the Grigori or Watchers themselves were not so much angelic or messengers of God, but an actual elder, more adanced, race who died out all bar a few, during the Ice Age. Which I think ties in nicely with Tolkien's view of elder races in his works.

And now...without further ado, on to the chapter. Thranduil finds himself in a tiny spotlight in this one.

"When you're up to your nose in the shit, keep your mouth shut."

_**Beauregard's Law**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 51 – Smile now, tomorrow may be worse**

**The Gilmalk Encampment, Twenty-first Hall**

Orgrim stood on one of the Watchtowers at the encampment and looked down as the last of the patrols marched in through the doors, axes carried over their shoulders. This was the first time in a very long time that every single member of the clan, other than the three who were accompanying the servants of the Lords of the West of course, had been in the encampment at the same time. The heavy wood and iron gates were drawn shut with a great ponderous creaking and groaning, the females were preparing to fight alongside the men and the younglings were in the only room within the encampment, a room that was built of strong stone, with walls of at least three feet thick and which had one strong door.

And which could well become their tomb if things went ill.

"Is that the last of your clan Master Orgrim?"

Orgrim looked up at the tall silver-haired Nadiel. "That is the last of the patrols, although we will do a muster and a roll call shortly. Did you finish your...whatever it was that you and your brethren were doing successfully?"

Nadiel grinned down at the Dwarf. "We have placed a barrier around this area. None who are not invited will be able to enter. While you are doing your roll call my brethren and I will summon a guardian as an added protection. This protection will hold whether the Grigori are here or not and even were a thousand years to pass, the protection and guardian would still be here."

"Does this mean that none of us will be able to leave or anyone enter?" There was a slightly worried note in Orgrim's voice.

Nadiel shook his head firmly. "Indeed not Master Orgrim. Your people will be able to come and go much as they always have. The guardian will recognise all of those who live and are accepted here. It will only act if others try to enter who do not have permission. All of the Grigori residences and offices throughout the world have such protections."

Orgrim's face relaxed and sagged with relief. "Good...good. May I ask in what form this guardian is?"

Nadiel was silent for a moment as if thinking about how to describe the guardian and a small, slightly naughty smile hovered around his mouth. "Well...we are summoning what you might term as a lesser order of demon."

Orgrim nearly passed out with shock. "A demon? You are summoning a demon?" He grasped onto the handrail around the watchtower for support. "But demons are bad are they not?"

"All beings, both natural and supernatural lie under the command of the Source of all Power. (2)" Nadiel said gently, seeing that his flippant remark had shocked the poor old Dwarf. "And there are many such beings in the spiritual world. Most of the bad ones; the ones that cannot help themselves but to do harm live in the Void and yes, it would be very very bad to call on such a one to act as a guardian. However there are many others, spirits of the air, the forest and the water, even some of the fire who are neither good nor bad, they simply are. They serve a purpose in the ordering of the worlds in this universe and can work for either good or bad depending on how they are called. It is the job of my kind to ensure that they work for good. Demon is just a name for a spiritual being that is of a lower order. Unfortunately the religious and spiritual development of mankind has put an entirely different and more threatening connotation on the word and turned it into something to be greatly feared."

Orgrim found he was interested despite the initial fear. "And of what nature is the guardian summoned for us?" He asked curiously.

Nadiel laughed softly. "We spoke among ourselves and sought instruction from Lord Sariel and the Grigori Shamans in Vevey and it was suggested that a spirit of fire be used. They thought the fire aspect was in keeping with who and what you are. You will not be able to see the Demon once invoked, but it will appear to the trespasser." He shrugged. "Of course by that time it is usually too late for them."

Orgrim didn't like to ask how they had sought this instruction, he had the distinct impression that it would be better for him not to know. There was much about these beings that spoke of earthy, deep and powerful magic. The fact that they were more than happy to use such protections made him wonder just what the Istari of old, like old Tharkun (1) for example, could have been capable of had they exercised their full true power. These Grigori or whatever they called themselves did not seem to consider themselves to be under the same constraints that the Valar and their servants considered themselves to be. It was both unsettling and strangely reassuring.

So instead he grunted and nodded and agreed with the notion that a Fire Guardian was indeed appropriate for those whose lives revolved around fire of some sort. After all they seemed to know what they were doing.

He harrumphed, took a handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose thoroughly. The tall shining being beside him made no movement to show he was even aware of the Dwarf's embarrassment and feelings of vague trepidation but Orgrim suspected that not much was hidden from him, especially when it came to mortals.

"Hmm. Shall we go then Master Nadiel?" Orgrim turned and headed for the stone steps built up to the watchtower indicating that the Grigori should follow him. The two Dwarves who were on watch keeping duty bowed respectfully to their clan leader and stared in awe at the tall, beautiful and imposing Nadiel. "I can do the mustering and you can get on with summoning your...harrumph...guardian or whatever he...it..or she is."

"They have no gender. They are simply spiritual creatures who can take a bodily form of any kind, much as we Grigori would be able do in our natural habitat and if we were not earthbound. The fire guardian being summoned most often resembles a much fiercer version of a mythical bird called the Phoenix, however the Phoenix itself is actually not so mythical. The one we intend to summon as guardian is called Urobach." Nadiel responded calmly as he followed the hurrying little figure of the Dwarf down the stairs. The Grigori seemed to glide everywhere as if he was on wheels rather than had feet, as they all did, but Orgrim knew that when they did move it was so swift as to be barely visible to the naked eye.

It was on the tip of Orgrim's tale to say that he _really_ preferred not to know the demon's name or really anything _at all _about it, but instead stayed silent in case Nadiel thought he was ungrateful.

He sighed inwardly. Perhaps getting used to a demon guarding the encampment instead of leaving it open to attack by Mahal knew what was by far the lesser of the two evils.

ooOoo

A scant hour later and Orgrim was beginning to wonder what actually _was_ the lesser of the two evils.

He had mustered the adult members of the clan at the opposite end of the encampment near to the dining and kitchen area. Far at the opposite end was where the four Grigori stationed themselves. Right in front of the main entrance with its huge wood and iron gates. Orgrim had watched the Grigori assemble in a line directly in front of the gates and then had left them to it. After all, they hardly needed his input. It was only when one of the younger Dwarves drew his attention back to their erstwhile protectors that he looked their way and was taken aback, just as everyone else was when they craned their necks around to see.

The four Grigori were standing side by side in front of the large gates. Around them swirled a nimbus of bright silvery- blue light. Their eyes were closed and their heads thrown back, facial features had lengthened and shifted until they resembled an elongated slightly diamond shaped head of a snake. Cheekbones had lengthened; become more prominent and eyes had become almond shaped. Their hair, previously neatly braided in a long queue down their back, was now eldritch, loose and billowing around their heads as though the nimbus of light itself was filled with some cosmic breeze that eddied and swirled around them. Even from where the Dwarves stood they could all feel the that power as tendrils of the light wove their way outside of the immediate power circle.

It was altogether indescribable and the Dwarves were rooted to the spot in both fear and awe.

"Look at their fingers!" Whispered one of the Dwarves. "It's magic."

"It's power." Orgrim snapped to them all in general as he watched the tiny blue flames crackling from each of the fingertips. The Grigori all had their arms by their sides but slightly lifted so that they stood fingertip to fingertip and the flames crackled from one to the other in a mutual exchange. "They are connected with one another and they share their power to summon protection."

He sharply gestured for them all to disperse to their assigned posts, which they did, but not without much muttering and askance looks at the four alien creatures now practising their craft. Doubt mingled with fear among them and Orgrim could not find it in him to blame them.

"It's not natural." Whispered one of the Dwarves to another as they hurried to their post. "It's just not. Magicks should not be used like this, there will be consequences and we will be caught in the middle."

"We're caught in the middle anyway." The scornful voice of one of the women, Hifur's mother who was called Fis, cut through the mutterings of the menfolk. Orgrim recognised her voice and smiled grimly at her practicality in the face of such things. "What difference does it make as long as we survive? Or would you rather we just handed ourselves on a platter to whatever creatures are out there? Hmm?"

The others had no answer and their mutterings subsided. Hifur's mother gave a scornful laugh and she shook her head as she verbalised the age old cry of the female gender towards the idiocy of men.

"Men! I'd be hard put to find out what they _are _useful for. Superstitious bumbleheaded dolts and idiots, the lot of them." She grumbled under her breath as she headed towards the room where the younglings were being kept to check on whether they were all present and correct. Dwarven children were born so infrequently that every single child was as precious as jewels and mithril to them. Much _more _precious in fact.

As Orgrim stood watching the Grigori, biting his underlip and chewing on his beard with misgiving, he saw the nimbus of light grow until it enveloped the four beings completely. He moved closer in terrified fascination and noticed that the members of the guard who were standing near to them had the selfsame expressions on their faces as he did; awed terror. He found that his feet had crossed the ground towards them as though he were being attracted by the force of what was happening, like iron filings to a magnet. As a result he was quite close when the guardian demon of fire Urobach made his...its first appearance.

First there was an acrid smell, very similar to that during a thunderstorm when the lightning was fierce. Modern scientists called it ozone and it was a very distinctive aroma which wrinkled Orgrim's nose. Then, to his utter astonishment, what looked like a small, very grey and very angry looking, storm cloud appeared over the gate in front of the Grigori. His mouth dropped open for what must have been the millionth time since he had met Seth and his brethren as a bolt of white and blue lightning arced from the middle of the cloud and stabbed the ground at the feet of the Grigori who remained silent and completely immobile. The air around them was now filled with the smell of ozone and the Dwarven guards had moved back well out of the way of whatever was coming with alacrity.

And it was clear that _something_ was coming. The air surrounding the encampment was thick enough to slice with an axe.

Orgrim found that he could not move. Oh, he wanted to all right, it was just that his feet wouldn't obey the instructions his brain was giving them. He shuddered with fear and let out a small cry of distress which immediately attracted Nadiel's attention. The Grigori's head swivelled around and Orgrim almost sank to the floor when he saw that the blue nimbus that surrounded them was actually coming from the Grigori themselves. Silvery-blue light leaked from Nadiel's eyes and his face looked utterly alien. Orgrim moaned with both awe and terror and sank to his knees. A moment later he was within the light itself. Nadiel had seen his distress and realised that he could not move away as the others had done, so his long, strong arm had snaked out and snatched Orgrim into the nimbus with them. He then resumed his concentration at the same time as holding the Dwarven leader up with one hand and with little or no effort at all.

For himself, Orgrim felt the fear leave him the moment he was joined into the communion between the four Grigori. Once he was there, instead of fear, a feeling of intense love and compassion filled him and he felt tears spill over and into his beard. The air around him was peaceful and did not smell of ozone. It smelled of roses and there was starlight so bright and so close he felt as though he could touch it. These alien looking creatures were nothing to be afraid of, unless of course you were the object of their anger. They were light, pure, simple and immensely powerful and yet at the same time Orgrim knew that this was not a full demonstration their power.

He basked, afloat in the safety of this wonderful light and feeling of well-being and as he did he saw pictures in his mind's vision and realised with great pleasure and excitement that he was being shown the past of the Naugrim, from their awakening by the work of Mahal, the gentle sleep invoked by the supreme maker until the Firstborn awoke at Cuivenen, he whom the Elves called Eru Iluvatar and thence onto the eventual awakening of Durin, the Deathless One.

He saw Moria in its heyday, lit up with the crystal lamps and the massive reflective mirrors working to fill the massive caverns with light. He wept afresh as he saw Durin cut down by the Shadow and the Flame and then much later, the subsequent outpouring of goblin kind into the beautiful mansions, gardens and plazas of Khazad-dum bringing with them desecration and destruction.

He finally felt Tharkun's despair as he was about to be dragged down into the fiery abyss by Durin's Bane during the flight of the Fellowship. He heard the whispered _"Fly, you fools. Fly." _and then there was nothing but the light and he _knew_ beyond a shadow of a doubt that he trusted these Grigori to protect them. He knew his tiny clan, all that was left of the once mighty Naugrim, would be all right because the deep, kindly voice in his mind told him it would. He felt at peace for the first time in a very long time.

As the lightning stabbed down and hit the dusty floor nothing happened for what seemed like forever to those watching, but it was in fact only seconds. They were still filled with horror at the sight of their leader being seemingly drawn into the light and then consumed. Their attention was caught by a small dust devil which had spiralled up from the floor. It merrily danced along the dusty ground back and forth and one of the younger Dwarves let out a giggle of delight at the sight, whereupon the dust devil stopped dancing and started to grow. From a spiral it became a small column, from a small column it grew into a large column of red light and they could see the bright orange and red flames flickering within it. It revolved, swiftly at first until the flames were large, bright and crackling and then a figure began to appear within the flames.

Only the Grigori and Orgrim saw the guardian clearly as the spinning column slowed down gradually to a halt. All the others got was the impression of a monstrously large cross between a flying reptile and a bird with huge claws and bright basilisk eyes in the midst of which small red flames flickered. Its plumage appeared to be a mixture of feathers and fur, gold, red, orange and yellow in colour, but it had a bright helm of purple feathers like a Mohawk down the middle of its head. It was, all in all, nothing like anything any of them had seen ever before.

The creature stood in front of its summoners and cocked its head on one side, as though it was listening to commands or speech only it could hear.

And then it was gone and the air cleared.

Orgrim found himself standing alone by the gates. Nadiel and his brethren were conferring earnestly with each other to one side of the encampment. He blinked slowly and tried to sort his befuddled thoughts out into some semblance of rationality. As he struggled to come to terms with his unearthly experience, he felt someone grasping his arm with some strength and urgency.

"Orgrim." Fis's voice hissed in his ear, demanding his attention. "We have a problem. One of the younglings is missing."

ooOoo

**The Chamber of the Crossroads**

Eönwë stood quietly with Ezekiel and Thranduil in the shadows waiting for the signal from Seth to move in on the creatures waiting for them up ahead. The Herald had one thing to his advantage over everyone there and that was his ability to disincarnate, however as much use as this would have been in Seth's battle strategy, it was his abilities learned with the British Army Special Forces as Gary Matthews that he was about to utilise. As Thranduil so rightly pointed out, appearing just behind one of the creatures that stood guard was probably just as likely to make them cry out _before_ they could be silenced.

No...in this particular instance, getting up close and personal and silencing them before they could squawk or so much as breathe heavy was a much more effective strategy.

He eyed Thranduil who was now wearing a black woolly hat courtesy of Carver Grissom to cover his bright hair and his face was also blacked out, as was both the Herald's and Ezekiel's. A small smile hovered around Eönwë's lips. This Elf was becoming something to be reckoned with. Eönwë hadn't failed to notice his easy familiarity with Seth and the other Grigori. They didn't phase him at all and his background with Mercenary forces and other armies of the race of Men down through the centuries had honed his battle skills to the point where there was little he didn't know about military tactics, both overtly offensive and those of the more sneaky variety. To be truthful, if it hadn't been for his delicately pointed Elven ears, there would be little to tell him from Ezekiel or even himself. Somehow, instead of his sojourn during the millennia in Middle-earth causing him to fade, it had actually fortified him, unlike Maglor who although he had assimilated himself neatly into the world of Men, had not fared quite as well as the Elvenking. Of course that could, in part, be due to the fact that he was living in a marred state due to his actions in the First Age.

Eönwë decided that he would speak to Lord Namo about Thranduil. Perhaps he could shed some light as to how Thranduil had not faded and in fact had almost gained stature on a level with the Maiar. This almost seemed like a deliberate act on the part of Eru and one which had not been foreseen by anyone, not even Thranduil himself.

Finally the Herald's eyes passed to Elrond, standing quietly between Glorfindel and Elladan. To Eönwë, the link between Elladan and his father were almost tangible. The lad was sending out his love and support and Elrond did look better for it. Glorfindel stood, the eternal guardian, on the other side quietly offering his own support which was considerable. Eönwë had known Glorfindel both as an elfling and as one of the Reborn, his escapades had been the talk of Valinor and many were the times that either Eönwë and the Maiar of Lord Manwe and Irmo or other Maiar were sent to either get him out of trouble or assist him because he was in a difficult situation. It had finally been a finely honed, disciplined Maiar-trained Glorfindel who set sail back to Middle-earth as the guardian of the line of Earendil with the blessing of the Valar.

Eönwë noted with approval that the peaky, distracted look had started to leave Elrond's eyes and indeed he seemed to be anticipating a good fight just ahead as his fingers hovered over his sword.

_Are you ready? _Seth sent the question to Eönwë by thought.

Eönwë lifted his hand, a signal which both Ezekiel and Thranduil saw and the three silently moved into the shadows, each headed for their target.

Thranduil slipped into the easy, silent movement of someone long trained in special tactics. To Eönwë he resembled nothing so much as a great golden predator, moving silently from shadow to shadow, barely perceptible even to the Herald's sharp eyes.

Ezekiel meanwhile had disappeared into the shadows altogether, although Eönwë could see his aura quite plainly. It had darkened to almost purple and he knew that his own had done the same. He knew that he was invisible to Thranduil but that Ezekiel could see his aura also.

Seconds later and the deed was done. Eönwë slid his strong hands around his target's thick leathery cheek and chin, then with effortless ease he gave a sharp twist and the creature slid bonelessly to the floor with its neck snapped. He caught the body before it hit the floor and carefully dragged it back into the shadows of the passage, giving a quick check to the pulse just to make sure it was actually dead. A soft movement showed both Thranduil and Ezekiel doing the same with theirs. The group around the camp-fire didn't even notice and neither did the two goblin-like creatures mounted on their wargs.

Thranduil looked at Eönwë and grinned, his teeth showing a bright white in the darkness. "Three down, ten to go." He whispered.

"There is another standing away from the others, but not as close to us as these three." Ezekiel's voice sounded low in the Herald's ear.

"How possible is it to take him out quietly?" Eönwë asked softly.

Ezekiel thought for a moment. "I am thinking that we could bring the others up quietly, then perhaps if you disincarnate just behind him and do the business, it then won't matter if he does manage to cry out and warn the others because we will all be ready to attack."

"They look bored to me." Thranduil said. He wiped his knife off with a cloth from his webbing. He had chosen to silence his by slitting its' throat. "They are not alert. They're just sitting around a makeshift camp-fire and squabbling with each other. I imagine their Captains are actually inside the Chamber of the Crossroads. They will come once the others are engaged, but they are not on their guard. Taking these out..." He gestured contemptuously at the three slumped bodies. "...was just a piece of cake."

By this time they had reached Seth and the others.

"I gather you were successful?" Seth raised an eyebrow. He had a look on his face that Eönwë had seen many times on the face of Tulkas.

"Affirmative." Ezekiel answered for all of them. "There is one other who stands a little away from the others. I suggest that we move up a little further and Eönwë disincarnates to deal with him. By that time if they do get wind of us then it will make no difference. We will be close enough to mount our attack."

"I'll say one thing." Thranduil interrupted. "The one that's standing away from the others seemed different to me somehow. It's as if he doesn't actually belong with them. For a start he isn't wearing armour. You and Ezekiel might not have seen this Lord Eönwë, but my target was closest to him and I got a good look. He is not carrying a sword. He's carrying a side-arm and he's dressed more like us than them."

Eönwë and Seth looked at each other. "A servant of Herumor." Eönwë said grimly. "He could well be the creature that drove Herumor at that reception Kim and I attended. I caught a glimpse of him earlier opening the car door for Herumor when they arrived, but the General's Aide de Camp hurried us in so fast I never got the chance to look at him closely. Kim got a better look and she said that he looked like an orc."

"If this is so, then my guess is he will have placed himself so he can disappear quickly and quietly if things go badly for them. "Seth said quietly. "He won't want to risk being captured. Not if he needs to report back to Herumor."

"Whatever we're gonna do we'd better do it quickly." Carver nodded towards the passage. "I believe we're about to have a few more guests for that late lunch we were planning."

Seth's face altered form so swiftly that it even took Eönwë by surprise and the Elves saw straight away that the Herald was as wigged out by the change as they had been when they first saw it.

_Interesting._ Thranduil thought and filed that away for future reference, but he had no more time to ponder this interesting fact before he saw what Seth had seen. The very creature they had been talking about had appeared and he was not alone. Besides the other orcs that followed him brandishing their ill made weapons, Herumor's orc had a struggling, weeping young Dwarf of the female persuasion in his strong grasp and he held a long wicked looking knife at her throat. It had already dug into the tender flesh and a trickle of thick blood was beginning to run down her neck. Her russet hair had come loose of her braids and her clothes were torn. There was a bruise across her cheek and blood on her lips as if someone had slapped her repeatedly over the face and mouth.

"Come any further and I _will _kill her. Or perhaps I will let these others have her...in the biblical sense of course before they have her as a meal. She smells sweet for the get of a filthy Dwarf and I imagine she is untouched." Herumor's orc spoke perfect English. "Surrender to us, we are many and you are few. My friends are _very_ hungry for both pleasure _and _food."

"Alydd!" Arras cried out in fear at the sight of one of his friends being held captive, only Hifur's hand on his arm and a shake of the older Dwarf's head stopped him from saying or doing anything else that could get her killed or worse. Hifur and Bofi wore grim, angry expressions on their faces at the molestation of one of their younglings.

Eönwë felt the same deep black rage that Seth had felt at the sight of that young defenceless child in the grasp of something so sickening it had no right to even exist. It was so deep that he almost failed to control any physical changes properly, but the strength of it and desire for it made him tremble from within and he seemed to be seeing everything through a red mist. He had never felt this way during the War of Wrath. Yes he had killed these creatures, but always from a standpoint of disgust or even sometimes pity knowing that as a being he was far above them. Never from a rage that welled up from some deep untapped place within him. He did the only thing he could think of under the circumstances and disincarnated in order to control his hroa better.

_Go and get her now Eönwë while you are disincarnated._ Seth's calm golden tones sounded in his head. _We have your back and will deal with this creature and his cronies. We can help you deal with what you are feeling once we secure this area and reach the Chamber._

Eönwë needed no further urging. He felt a sudden control over the primal rage he was feeling and realised that Seth himself was helping him achieve it. Seconds later he had materialised directly in front of Herumor's orc and his captive. The orc squawked in dismay and dropped the Dwarf in order to defend himself better. Eönwë immediately disincarnated with the young Dwarf slumped in his arms and materialised again behind his group who had already moved in on the creatures.

"Leave her with me, my Lord, I can look after her and defend her if need be." Arras said quietly as Eönwë gently laid his burden down on the tunnel floor and checked her pulse to make sure she was still in the land of the living. "Go and help the others."

The young Dwarf drew his axe and stood next to his friend who had fainted dead away with fright. There was a determined look on his face and Eönwë needed no further urging. He leapt into the fray firing at point blank range at anything orc-like that made the huge mistake of getting in his way.

Whatever Herumor's servant and his orc friends had expected it wasn't the sight of a number of beings with terrible, fell faces and huge swords that had small blue flames crackling up and down the blades. Behind them came those disgusting Elves with the light of battle on their fair faces, firing guns of all things and behind them came the Men. Not the kind of men Herumor's servant had become accustomed to. These were men with grim fell faces and they also carried guns. They were quite unprepared for these things of metal spewing out death in an instant.

He saw one of the Elves, a big bastard with eyes alight with green fire and a mane of golden hair, revealed when his black hat slid off, come swooping towards him, this time with a sword and he decided that he had already hung around far too long. It was time to leave. He turned and pushed one of the smaller warg-riders off his mount and jumped on it, even as Thranduil swung his long sword around in a wide arc. The orc ducked, but the downward slash of the arc neatly severed the warg's head from its neck and it fell to the ground with a crash. Herumor's servant squeaked in alarm, struggled to his feet and dived through Thranduil's legs, but he wasn't quite quick enough. A strong arm reached down, gripped him by his throat and lifted him clear off his feet. He hung there terrified and choking with his legs kicking madly.

He found himself staring into a pair of silvered eyes and a face one could only ever had seen in nightmares and that only a mother could love

"Don't kill me!" He croaked in terror. "I can tell you... things..._many_ things."

"Oh I won't kill you..._yet._" Seth turned to Thranduil. "Let's secure this bugger shall we? I rather think we will be having a cosy chat with him a bit later."

"An interview without coffee?" Thranduil flashed the Grigori leader a huge grin as he grabbed the orc, cruelly stretched his arms behind his back and snapped a set of handcuffs on him. "I_ like _the sound of that! I bags first go at him."

Seth laughed and to the petrified orc the laughter had a terrible sound to it that boded ill for him. "Perhaps we'll let you soften him up."

The battle was short-lived. Herumor's servant had led these creatures to believe that the race of Men were soft and that the Elves had lived too long in that disgusting realm of the gods of light to be any use with weapons any more. They certainly hadn't bargained for a bunch of godlike beings with them and none of them would be telling anyone else any time soon since they all lay dead at the feet of Seth and his party.

All except for Herumor's servant of course and he was going nowhere fast.

ooOoo

**The Halls of Lord Manwe Sulimo, Oiolosse, Taniquetil**

"Is Eönwë right?" Manwe turned to Raguel who was standing beside him watching events unfold in Moria through the tall window that faced east towards Arda Marred.

"About Thranduil?" Raguel smiled that enigmatic smile which secretly drove Manwe to the point of wanting to strangle the emissary of the Timeless Halls.

"No...about the Dwarves...yes of _course_ I mean Thranduil." Manwe said irritably.

Raguel chuckled. "You should take a walk around Ulmo's delightful fountains in your gardens Manwe. Flowing, tinkling water does a great deal for the choler, or so I have heard."

"It just makes me want to go to the toilet." Manwe retorted immediately. "And you are not going to distract me that way. What's happened to Thranduil and should I be worried about it?"

Raguel sighed and sat down on one of the thickly cushioned marble seats. He patted the seat beside him. "Come and sit down Manwe, you'll give yourself hypertension fretting and pacing like that."

Manwe reluctantly sat down beside him and Olorin immediately appeared with a tray which had a carafe of the pale gold sparkling Teleri wine, some goblets and a tray of sweetmeats on it. He set the tray down on a small marble table.

"Thank you Olorin." Manwe smiled up at the Maiar. "Most kind of you."

Olorin inclined his head to his Lord and left the room, leaving the Seraphim and the Elder King alone.

Raguel took a sip of the wine and leaned back on the seat with a blissful look on his face. "That wine is superb. Now, where were we? Ah yes, Thranduil Oropherian. I am not really sure that it's _wholly _my task to speak of him. You really should ask the Source...Eru...yourself. Or ask Namo. He knows things."

"If I ask Namo he will just become more inscrutable than he usually is and he'll then come out with some unintelligible doom nonsense and then I'll want to kick him squarely in the shins." Manwe said shortly. "Eru will probably tell me I need to ask Namo and then I find I'm on a nice little merry-go-round where everyone else knows everything and I know nothing. And nobody will tell me anything. So...I am asking you instead."

Raguel's fair brows were knitted together in concentration as he tried, and failed, to unravel Manwe's declaration. Finally he shrugged. "Thranduil is a strong willed rebel. To be honest he_ should _have faded. However, since he didn't Eru was prepared to allow him to survive the Ice Age intact, but he was supposed to sail West with Glorfindel, Elrond's twins and Celeborn. He is without a doubt a stubborn, bloody-minded old Elf and refused to budge. So Eru decided that he would play a part in the development of the modern age of Mankind, right along with that stubborn old coot Radagast who refused to come back here as well. Only to do that meant that he had to be graced with certain attributes to help him survive. It was discussed with Lord Anu, who was of the Ainur who came back down to earth from the Halls and set up the stronghold in Kharsag. Lord Anu was, understandably, reluctant to send Seraphim to fetch Thranduil by force and that stubborn fool would not come willingly so it fell ultimately to Lord Sariel and Lord Semjaza to travel to where Thranduil was. Aspects of his genes were duly subtly altered so as to give him extra abilities not dissimilar to those displayed by the Grigori and he was our contact with the developing bloodlines of mankind for a great many years through many of the great civilisations of antediluvian times and after. It was only when the Egyptians decided that he was the god Horus personified that he travelled north and went underground because he felt, rightly so, that he was interfering with course of their civilisation."

"He doesn't look any different." Manwe was bewildered.

"Nor is he." Raguel poured himself another goblet of wine. "He is of the Eldar still and all of his physical attributes are the same as any other Elf. However, he is stronger and faster than the average Elf and his mental capacities, which were already quite considerable, were increased. The present-day Grigori know of him and respect him greatly even though they remained hidden from him after the fall of Semjaza and the recall of the others back to the Halls. In latter years he has concerned himself only with assimilating himself into modern society, but he has seen all of man's triumphs and many of his follies and taken part in many of them. He is an exceptional Elf. He no longer grieves for his wife who, as he rightfully surmised, did _not_ answer the call of Mandos on her death. Her fea preferred to wander the forests of her birth until eventually she faded. He will not settle properly here in Valinor and Eru has decided that once this business with Herumor is finished, Thranduil will be offered some sort of situation as a liaison between the Timeless Halls, Arda and here. The exact duties have not been decided. In the meantime he is where Eru wishes him to be. He is more use to young Seth than he is here in the Blessed Realm, even though his son is here and his son's family. Does this answer your question?"

Manwe nodded slowly. "I suppose it does. We...the Valar...should have known of those left behind. We should have brought them here, not left them to survive an Ice Age. We should have known, but we did not. We have made so many bad decisions, it's a wonder Eru has not had us all bounced back to the Halls for punishment."

Raguel put a comforting hand over Manwe's. "Stop beating yourself up about this Manwe. Eru _knows_ that you did the best under very difficult circumstances. It was not meant to have been this complicated and our brother Melkor has a great deal to answer for. The problems you encountered can be laid squared at his door. Perhaps your only folly was to capture him and then let him go, assuming that he was completely penitent. You are...were...his brother. It is only natural that you would want to assume that he truly had repented of his earlier destructive acts, but truly, once set in motion, both here in Valinor and in Arda, events had moved on and there was little you could have done to stop them."

"I suppose so." Manwe said quietly. "Legolas will be disappointed if his father does not come here. He has longed to see him...to introduce him to his family."

Raguel's eyes twinkled. "I did not say that Thranduil could not visit. Just that he would not be comfortable settling here. Legolas's family will meet him and he will be reunited with his mother and father as well." He got up. "I must go. I promised that I would meet with Irmo in Lorien and I should have been there an hour ago. Try not to worry, Thranduil will prevail. He is strong. It is the Peredhil who should concern you more since his blood _is _mixed with that of the Ainur. Seth and the others will do their best to help and train him, but it should have really been addressed when he first landed here."

Manwe flushed to the roots of his hair. "We truly did not think it was a large enough strain to make a difference and he needed much healing. He had all but spent himself in Arda. We didn't want to make it harder for him to heal."

Raguel nodded. "Ah well, he will be fine now. He has his son to add strength to his bond and he is with one of our most extraordinary young Kerubim in the form of Seth Falconer. He will look after him."

He dematerialised only to materialise back a few seconds later and make Manwe nearly jump out of his hroa.

"That young Herald of yours...Eönwë . I am very impressed with him and with his lovely wife and indeed with _all_ of your Maiar. You and the others are to be congratulated. I think my report to the Source will be a most favourable one indeed."

He then dematerialised again leaving Manwe feeling giddy with relief.

ooOoo

**(1) Demon**, Defined as a lesser spirit of God or a 'devil' in Christian mythology.  
Literal meaning for Demon = "replete with wisdom". Derived from the Greek word: "Daimon" meaning divine power.

**(2) Tharkun**, _n, _was the name given to Gandalf by the Dwarves in the north. He was known as Mithrandir to the Elves and Gandalf to those in the Shire and Bree. The Rohirrim called him Gandalf Greyhame.**  
**


	52. Interlude in Switzerland

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. **

**Author's Note: ** Apologies for not updating sooner, but there has been a lot going on and with the fine weather I have been out in the garden planting stuff and taking advantage of the sunshine. I rather suspect everyone else has done the same. It has been raining the past couple of days though and my plans to fly to Cape Town have been momentarily scuppered by the ash cloud from the Iceland volcano. Air companies are concentrating on getting the stranded people home, so they are asking people not to make new bookings for the next few days. Anyhow...on with the story and a little interlude in Switzerland for our Herald and Kim just to get me back in the swing of the story. Some vaguely romantic fluff is included.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?  
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.  
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.  
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,  
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;  
And every fair from fair sometime declines,  
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed.  
But thy eternal summer shall not fade  
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;  
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,  
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,  
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,  
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. "

_**William Shakespeare, Sonnet 18**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 52 – Interlude in Switzerland**

**Grigori Enterprises HQ, Vevey, Switzerland**

Eönwë wasn't at all sure whether to be relieved or concerned that dinner had finally finished. Sariel's human wife, Eve, had got briskly to her feet when Michel brought the port and brandy in with coffee and whisked Kim off to her private sitting room for a chat. She did, however, wink at Eönwë and gently squeezed his shoulder as she left with a bewildered Kim in her train.

"Don't break him Sariel." She warned her husband in a whisper. "Poor young man looks terrified."

Her husband replied by grinning and blowing a kiss to both ladies as they left the dining room leaving Eönwë sitting at one end of the long polished wooden dining table and Joaquim, Sariel and the other members of the Grigori High Council at the other. Eönwë felt most uncomfortably that he was about to be interviewed for a job or grilled for information, but he could see no way of easily shortening the distance by moving his chair without making it look very obvious.

He stared unhappily at the group of beings lounging at the other end of the table. Sariel was relaxed in his chair, long legs sprawled out in front of him under the table, but his eyes were like shards of pale blue ice as he stared at Eönwë from under a swathe of white blond hair. In direct contrast to him was flame haired Penemue from the American headquarters. His eyes were bright green and twinkled merrily like many faceted emeralds at the uncomfortable Maia. A small smile hovered around his mouth as he sat crumbling a dinner roll onto the side plate, carefully moulding the crumbs into a pyramid shape with long slender white fingers.

In-between Sariel and Penemue sat the head of the council himself, Joaquim de Salvo. Eönwë had felt the power of this Ainur even before he had entered the room to greet his guests earlier in the day. His stride was the easy lithe grace of a pure predator, his hair was of an almost blue-black hue and fell in an unbound shining mass around his shoulders and then down his back almost to his waist. His eyes were such a brilliant shade of sapphire blue and held such command that Eönwë could hardly drag his own gaze away from them. He could see why the others, as powerful as they seemed to be themselves, ultimately deferred to this Grigori.

The others, amongt them Kokabiel with his snow white hair and the one who had travelled from the deserts of Egypt, dark-haired Asradela all gave off a more subtle power, although out of all of them, Asradel seemed the most approachable. Indeed even now, as Eönwë swallowed past the dry spot in his throat, Asradel smiled encouragingly at him

These were not Maia...they were Ainur of a like that Eönwë had not encountered for a very long time. He had been absent so long from the Timeless Halls and become so used to the benevolent star-like brilliance of the Valar that he had forgotten what the Ainur who normally surrounded the throne of Eru were actually like and he was finding it difficult to equate these people with the Valar he knew, served and loved. The differences that existed between Valar and Maiar were small now compared with the differences between these, the earthbound Seraphim and their lower order, the Kerubim, and the latter were impressive enough in their own right.

"Don't let them intimidate you." Seth had cautioned him just before Eönwë had taken his leave of them, the morning after the great feast that Orgrim and the other dwarves had insisted on giving them in gratitude for the safe return of the young female. "They can be very, _very _mischievous that way, although Joaquim can't keep that up for very long. Basically he is a sweet person at heart and Sariel can be the shining vengeful archangel, in fact he often does use that persona, but when you see him with Eve and his son, you can see that his heart and nature are good. Just remember who _you_ are. You are the representative of beings just as impressive as they are and you have _nothing_ to be ashamed of. Remember that unlike them _you _reside within the grace and light of the Source of All Power, and you carry that light with you like a banner. Unlike we, the earthbound Ainur, who merely cling on to the edges of that grace."

It was with the remembrance of these words that Eönwë suddenly drew himself up in his chair. He squared his shoulders and stared them all down. He was the Herald of Manwe and representative of Eru Iluvatar here on Arda and he would not allow them to belittle that. There was an expression of firm resolve in his beautiful dark blue eyes and the set of his mouth which made Penemue's eyes crinkle at the corners with laughter and caused him to flick a teaspoonful of the crumbs from his plate over at Joaquim who rolled his own eyes and brushed them off the front of his immaculate white shirt before immediately flicking a cube of cheese from the cheese board at the aforementioned chief of the American Grigori Enterprises headquarters. The cheese was snatched in mid-flight with stunning speed by a dark haired Grigori who popped it into his mouth and chewed appreciatively before drawling a thank you to Joaquim which caused the rest of them, except for Sariel whose ice-blue gaze had now settled thoughtfully on the young Herald, to burst out into laughter.

Asradel sighed and shook his head as he saw the firm, intent challenge in the young Maia's eyes even as it changed to mild astonishment when a food brawl more reminiscent of a bunch of teenagers threatened to erupt in front of him.

"_Showtime_." He murmured to no-one in particular and signalled to Michel to bring the wine in.

ooOoo

Kim set her cup of coffee down on the small elegant side table and cast a worried glance towards the door. She had seen her husband in many moods, but she had never seen him as nervous as he had been when she and Eve had left the dinner table.

Eve smiled at her. "He'll be okay you know. They can appear scary, but underneath they are good in heart. I wouldn't be here among them if they weren't."

"I think that Sariel and his kind have been a bit of a shock to his system. Elrond, Thranduil and the others did try to tell him that the Grigori were very different to the Maiar but it was a shock to see just how different. He kept talking about Seth and the other Kerubim back in Moria after I got home. It was like he was trying to convince himself or something." Kim shook her head. "Raguel did tell me that Eönwë would find them difficult to get used to at first. I told Eönwë as much, but I'm not sure how much of it he actually took on board. We didn't have much time between my return from Valinor and coming over here."

Eve chuckled. "You should have seen me when I first met them. I had them as suspects in a serial killing case I was working on. I spent much of the first few weeks of knowing Sariel and the others with them on the top of my most wanted list!"

Both women burst out laughing. "How did Sariel react to that?" Kim asked curiously.

"With immense patience." Eve responded. "He actually behaved a lot better than I did to be honest, as did Seth and Joaquim. Roger was infuriated with me for 'flitting off to god knows where on a wild goose chase' as he termed it. I was not the most popular girl in class. I wanted Sariel to commit himself to a relationship and of course I couldn't understand that it was _because_ he couldn't tell me what he and the other were, so I was a complete jealous bitch, followed him and Seth against strict orders from my boss to Egypt when they went off chasing the killer and nearly died in the Khamsin. Roger and one of the other policemen from our team were sent over to help the Consulate search for my body and bring it back with them. Only I survived thanks to Asradel. It was a complete bloody mess, everyone was furious with me and yet through the whole thing Sariel loved me unreservedly."

Eve's eyes had a distant look in them as she reminisced and Kim suddenly realised just how much she and Sariel's wife had in common.

"I was a bit of a mess too." She confessed. "There was a tear in the fabric between time-lines between modern earth and Middle-earth during the War of Wrath and I was on an exercise in the Forest of Dean where the tear occurred Some orcs came through and killed all the guys and the instructors on my course. I got away by the skin of my teeth and ended up in hospital. Gary....Eönwë ...was the Adjutant of my unit then and he came with Chief Knowles to question me because the police thought I was involved in mass murder. We went out to visit the crime scene when I was a bit recovered and ended up through the tear. That's how I ended up married to Eönwë ... he and Gary...well they were the same person and couldn't exist in the same time-line. I was a complete idiot through the whole thing and ended up getting pregnant by sleeping with Gary...only it wasn't Gary it was Eönwë because they kept swapping bodies." Her voice trailed off and she went bright red as she saw the astounded expression on Eve's face.

"Oh my..." Was all Eve said.

Kim nodded. "Yeah, that about covers it really. I got into a temper with Gary...um... Eönwë and I ran away, got kidnapped by an orc, who was ordered to take me to Morgoth along with our modern weaponry. I was rescued by Maedhros and his brother and taken to Eönwë's camp. Everyone was frantically looking for me. I was such a stupid, dimwitted little idiot. I'm sure that both Gary and Eönwë just wanted to strangle me, but they...he...was also very patient."

"It must be an Ainur thing." Eve grinned at her. "It sounds to me as though you made the same sort of impression on Eönwë as I did on Sariel. They both obviously like to live dangerously in their relationships with women! And now you have that simply beautiful little girl. How on earth do you manage with her? My son isn't anywhere near her age and I'm already struggling. I am just not used to the idea of a child of eight months practically speaking in sentences. My dad thinks it's a hoot and my brother in law, who teaches, loves spending time with his nephew. He and my sister have no children, which is such a shame because they would be awesome parents."

"That must be an Ainur thing as well." Kim replied. "Allie also starting speaking very early, around six months although it took her until she was about eighteen months to actually string coherent sentences together. It used to frustrate the hell out of her, she got into terrible temper tantrums but Eönwë is amazing with her. Her stubborn, easily annoyed part is entirely from my side he says." She suddenly remembered something Eve had mentioned. "Did you say that you met Sariel on a case you were working on? Were you in the police?"

Eve nodded. "Yeah, I was a Detective Sergeant with the Metropolitan Police. A friend, Roger Hamilton who was a Detective Chief Inspector came down to work on a serial killer case and asked for me on his team. The serial killer moved over to France... Paris in fact... and I was sent there as liaison for the British Police. That's how I met Seth. He was brought in as an expert in the occult by the Paris police." She got up from the chair and went to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the exquisite salon they were sitting in. After a few moments of rummaging among the bottles she produced a bottle of Amaretto. "Fancy something a bit stronger than tea? I never drank Amaretto until I found it in Joaquim's private stash of booze and I've got a bit addicted to it."

"Oooh yes!" Kim's eyes brightened up. "I love Amaretto. I made myself sick on it last Christmas and got no sympathy at all from Eönwë. I was as sick as a dog the next day, completely hungover and I felt like the entire British Army was doing manoeuvres inside my skull. He just laughed his socks off at me and told me that it was my own fault for being greedy, but he did look after Allie for the entire day so I could sleep. He told me afterwards that the night I was in a drunken state was very...interesting... but the bastard refused to tell me why, just had this smug smile on his face for days afterwards."

Eve poured out two very liberal glasses of Amaretto, popped some ice into the glasses and handed one to Kim. "The more I hear about him, the more he sounds just like Sariel. Well you can relax tonight, Sariel and Joaquim and the others will keep him talking most of the night, the nannies will see to the kiddies and you and I can talk till the cows come home, get pleasantly and completely blotto without worrying about hangovers because I can ask the Council Shamans to give us something to fix it quickly. That's a little trick I learned from Seth."

Kim sighed, kicked her shoes off and tucked her legs under her. She sipped the sweet almond liqueur and gave a blissful moan. "Sounds good to me."

Eve was her kind of person. Raguel had hinted back in Valinor that he thought that she would find much in common with Eve and along with the kind patience of the Valar and the Maiar while she was in Valinor, she felt completely in control of herself and her life for the first time since that fateful day when she had run from the massacre of her comrades in the Forest of Dean and subsequent adventures in Middle-earth.

And she had made a friend. Two very good friends in fact in the form of Ilmare and Eve Barique. Life was beginning to look up. What a pity it was doing it on the cusp of an apocalypse.

ooOoo

**Early hours of the next morning....**

"Ow...ouch. Who the hell put a chair there?"

Kim stifled the giggle that rose up in her. She lay still and pretended to sleep while Eönwë staggered across the bedroom floor apparently unable to keep his balance. Out of her half opened eyes she watched him struggle with his shirt and had to literally bite her fist not to laugh when he fell over his trousers and then stubbed his toe on the chair. She was astonished at the mere _fact_ of her perfect husband being drunk at all. He must have put quite a bit away.

She felt the pressure on the mattress shift as he slumped rather than actually lay down on the other side of the bed. He lay still for a little while and then turned onto his side, but no sooner had he done that than he turned and lay on the other side and then onto his back again. They both lay silently for a few minutes and Kim was just about to say something when Eönwë abruptly rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom smacking his hip into the door jamb as he shot through the door. Kim sat up in bed just in time to see him punch the door and miss, there were a few mumbled curses then the unmistakable sounds of someone throwing up came from the bathroom. "Oh god..."

Kim got out of bed and tiptoed to the bathroom door just as Eönwë's stomach had decided that it had got rid of most of what was upsetting it.

"My oh my. And here was me thinking that Maiar were perfect." Kim's voice filtered through the sickly drunken haze that was surrounding Eönwë's head.

He slid down into a squatting position by the toilet. "Let me die in peace." He moaned.

Kim snorted with laughter. "Typical bloody man, when I was suffering it was my fault, but when it's you, you're dying." She took a flannel, soaked it in cold water and began to gently bathe his face. "Nice?"

"Yes please."

"What on earth did you have to drink? And how much?" Kim gently bathed his hands. "I've never seen you like this. I thought Maiar could control stuff like getting drunk."

Eönwë took the cold flannel off her and laid it over his entire face. "We can...normally." His voice was muffled through the flannel. "They gave me some wine from the cellars...it was nothing like anything I ever tasted before. Joaquim said that it had been laid down centuries ago. I can't remember how much, but I think we all got very drunk. Sariel and Asradel brought me upstairs, or rather Asradel brought Sariel and I upstairs, he dumped Sariel in a heap at Eve's feet. She didn't look very pleased. I wouldn't be in his shoes for anything in the entire universe. I think Joaquim is still in the dining room asleep on the table. Apparently my stomach and central nervous system are more human than I gave them credit for." He groaned. "My head feels too big...is it too big?"

His tone was plaintive, like a small child's and Kim forced back the laughter that was bubbling up inside her. She sat down on the bathroom floor beside him and gently pulled his head down onto her lap. She gently massaged his scalp and temples. "No... it's just normal-sized. Does that feel better."

"It's very nice." He murmured sleepily. "I seem to remember Asradel saying something about my human form being subject to the same problems as any other, the longer I keep it without disincarnating. Apparently they can help...or something. I don't remember the details, things were looking very fuzzy at the time." He squinted up at his wife. "You look beautiful. Part of me wants to do something about it, but the other parts aren't co-operating."

Kim did laugh outright at this. She bent down and kissed his temple. "Thank you. You still look beautiful even when you're feeling awful and I think we should just go to bed and get some sleep. Maybe later, when you're feeling better, the parts will co-operate."

"Goo idea." His slurred comment was followed by a gentle snore and Kim could no longer hold her laughter in.

"Do you need some help?" Her soft laughter was interrupted and she looked up to see Penemue standing in the bathroom doorway. "I am sorry for disturbing your privacy, but it occurred to me that Eönwë is not used to our wine and you might have had some problems with him."

Kim's eyes crinkled up. "Well apparently my husband is an amiable drunk. But I do need to get him to bed so he can sleep it off. He's too heavy for me."'

Penemue chuckled. "Well that I _can _help with." He bent down and lifted Eönwë as though he weighed little more than Allie. "Where do you want him?"

"Now there's a loaded question if ever I heard one." Kim grinned and stood up. She folded the flannel up and put it on the heated towel rail. "Just on the bed please."

She watched as the Grigori laid Eönwë on the bed and gently covered him with the quilt. Eönwë mumbled something and turned over to the side which normally would have contained his wife. His hand groped the empty bed and a confused frown knitted his brows together as he patted the empty space.

Kim sighed. "Typical of a man. All promises and no delivery. I could really use a cup of tea."

"Well then, I can sort that out as well." Penemue's eyes twinkled at her and he bent down to arrange a pillow lengthwise down the bed. Eönwë grasped the pillow to his chest and snored again. Tears of silent laughter rolled out of Kim's eyes and Penemue held a hand out to her. "He'll sleep for a few hours now, but I'll send the Shaman in to help with the hangover. When he wakes he'll be fine. In the meantime, let's go and raid the kitchen shall we?"

ooOoo

"Did you enjoy your stay in the Blessed Realm?"

Penemue poured the boiling water onto the teabags in the small brown teapot. Kim thought it looked rather incongruous in this very large, state of the art kitchen, but followed when Penemue lifted the tray and carried it into a large airy adjoining breakfast area. He set it down on the pine table and opened the tin which was also on the tray. Inside were home made ginger biscuits chock-full of glacé ginger pieces. Kim took one and bit into it. She closed her eyes in pleasure. Everything they had eaten so far in this most perfect of places was heavenly, then she flushed as she realised that heavenly probably wasn't an appropriate word. She suddenly realised that Penemue was looking at her with a amused expression on his face.

"Oh...sorry... these biscuits are indescribably gorgeous. Yes I thought Valinor was beautiful. I'd only heard Eönwë talk about it before. It was good to see it for myself. I thought it would be... unreal, you know? But when you get past the mind-boggling beauty of the place you realise that people just live there, like everywhere else...except for the not dying part of course. Have you ever been there?"

Penemue clasped his mug of tea between his hands. "I was there when it sprang from Atto's thought. We all were. It looked like a beautiful jewel among the constellations and stars. I never actually set foot on it though." His tone had tuned a little bleak.

"Could you have? Gone I mean."

The red-haired Grigori sighed. "Some were meant to go and others were not, even though the choice was offered to us. Somehow those of us not meant to go just knew. We were intended for other things; needed to shepherd the universe. Father created, we maintained. But we did watch Manwe and the others sometimes, from afar. We were interested to see what they did with the creation of Arda. It was to be a blueprint you see. The first among many worlds."

Kim felt sorry for him. "Would you have liked to have gone?"

"It was my task to bring writing, words and the tools for that to mankind eventually. I think it would have been nice to do the same for the Firstborn. Mankind were...are still... suspicious and do not embrace change willingly. It was harder to do it second time around and there was so much we were not allowed to teach them." His eyes had taken on a faraway look. "Just so much and nothing more. The bare bones really. Many of us felt the same. Semjaza... it was his notion to break away to teach them what they really needed to know to make a civilisation. It was only when it had gone too far and was too late to turn back that we realised that mankind had never been intended to have the knowledge, that the Source...which Eönwë calls Eru... was trying to avoid the mistakes made the first time around. We went from not interfering in the development of the Secondborn, to interfering far too much."

Kim had held her breath up to this point, listening in wonder to what was unfolding in front of her, but now she felt constrained to say something.

"You mean that the Valar didn't do enough for mankind and they sort of ran riot, left to their own devices?"

Penemue smiled at her. "Clever girl...yes. Manwe and the others were more concerned for the Firstborn than they were for the second, but then they had always been given to understand that the Firstborn were their charges. The Ainur had nothing to do with the emergence of man. That was entirely the Source's purview and this is why the fates of the Firstborn and the Secondborn are very different. Does your husband not speak of this to you?"

Kim shook her head. "No...well...I think he thought I wouldn't understand any of it. It's caused some major problems between us and it's why I ended up in Valinor, to learn about the place and the people. We will eventually go back there. I didn't really have the time to discuss anything with him. I literally got back from Valinor and the next thing I knew I was on your private jet coming here."

Penemue sipped his tea and then dunked his ginger biscuit in the liquid. All was quiet while he and Kim just drank tea and enjoyed the biscuits.

"Eönwë has told us that this is where we will be sent...when we are united with the Source again." He said finally.

Kim was taken aback a bit. "Not the Timeless Halls?"

"Apparently not. We will go to a place called Tol Eressea at first in order to come to terms with our situation and then gradually we will be integrated into the mainland society among our brothers and sisters." Penemue sat back with his arm slung across the back of his chair and regarded her calmly. "It is not a punishment we are told and we have also been told that we may come there in our own time...when we are weary of earth. I suppose this is why I wanted to talk to you. Eönwë paints his own picture of the place he loves and misses, whereas you...like us you have never been there and now you have seen it through different eyes. Your feelings about it are more impartial and more relevant to us than his."

"I think you'll fit in there when you eventually go. It won't be like here of course. There are no modern conveniences like cars and planes, but since I imagine you will get most of your powers back that shouldn't be a problem. The Valar and the Maiar move swiftly from place to place in the blink of an eye and often walk among the Elves unclad. Mostly it's a beautiful tranquil place. I felt...whole there. I'd never really had a home before, just lots of foster homes, some not pleasant, but I felt like I'd come home and the Valar were very welcoming and warm. I guess they just want you to heal and I imagine you probably need a lot of spiritual healing after everything that you've gone through here." Kim wasn't sure whether she was telling him stuff he wanted to hear, but it was oddly pleasant to be the one offering reassurance for a change.

"I suspect that you were a complete surprise to the Valar." Penemue said quietly amused at this rather charming young wife of Eönwë's.

"I think I was a complete surprise to _Eönwë_, never mind the Valar" She responded dryly. "But yeah, I was a bit of a shock to their system. Ilmare and Olorin explained it to me. It wasn't so much that he and I were a shock to everyone, it was more that there was a woman in his life in the first place. I think they all assumed that he had withdrawn himself from the relationship market after Arien dumped him. Only they didn't quite put it like that."

"I'll just _bet_ they didn't." Penemue murmured. "Poor Eönwë. Did nobody at all help him after he was let down so badly?"

Kim looked a bit doubtful. "No, but to be fair to them, he didn't let anyone know how hurt he was. I think they all just felt relieved that he didn't fall apart at the seams. He's a bit of an idiot that way. When he's worried about something he keeps it to himself. I don't think he's ever heard of the maxim 'a trouble shared is a trouble halved'. I think that Erestor and the others get a bit frustrated with him doing that...I know I certainly do. He seems to have this idea that it's his sole job to fix this awful Herumor situation, which is why I'm glad he met Seth and you guys. Perhaps he'll realise that he doesn't _have_ to carry the can for everything."

"Then we must do all we can to help him." Penemue said firmly. "Can't have him falling apart at the seams now can we?"

Kim beamed at him. "I did wonder why you guys hadn't got involved long before Eönwë was dragged into it. Surely you knew about Herumor?"

Penemue's expression grew sober. "When we were sent down here from the Halls we were given to understand that nothing from the time of Middle-earth remained other than the few we discovered ourselves...people like Radagast and Thranduil with those of his people who loyally stayed with him. Through Radagast we knew that Lord Celeborn of Doriath had not yet sailed West and also that his grandsons and the Golden Warrior, Glorfindel of Gondolin also had remained. As far as we knew, all of the darkness that our brother Melkor caused on this planet had been long since cold and dead, buried under the glaciers. It was meant to be a clean slate for us. The latest incarnation of mankind was in its infancy. Indeed the Neolithic man that we had dealings with were still co-existing with Neanderthal man in a few places. For all of those millennia Herumor remained silent, where, we do not know. We were not even aware that the creations of Melkor and Sauron Bauglir, the vampire and werewolf, still existed until well into the Middle Ages. They only came into their own and became something to be reckoned with properly during the Dark Ages, although there were rumours, myths and tales about them in the near East and Greece. Herumor stayed well hidden. We now believe that he returned to the mountains which sheltered Thangorodrim and stayed there deep within them. The Anakim at Deir al Suryan are even now doing research into his origins and subsequent rise to power in an effort to find some chink in his armour that we can use against him."

"But didn't Beleriand sink under the sea?" Kim looked confused.

"The mountain range that Morgoth's fortress was in did survive and does to this day, it is part of the Ural Mountain range in Russia, north of Kazakhstan and the Caspian Sea. It is not too far from where the ancient clans of the vampires arose from their long sleep and began their war with the Lycans who had spread across Europe from central France preying on animals and remote villages. It was when they met in the middle that their wars over territory began. Wars that the general population were not aware of until they were directly involved. Europe at that time was in dark times indeed. We believe that Herumor came there from the East and waited for his time to come. We had no idea he was even there." Penemue shrugged. "As I said, we were told that nothing of that which had remained so we were not looking out for it. The frantic squabbles of primitive man concerned us more than old dark fears from another time entirely. But now we _are_ aware, thanks to Eönwë and the Source is concerned enough to command we earthbound Ainur to join in the fight for ourselves and mankind and we are concerned enough to acquiesce. Our reward is to be reunited with our Father."

They were interrupted at that point by the staff starting to softly pad into the kitchen area. The chef, a Frenchman called Pascal, smiled and bowed to them before turning and issuing staccato orders in rapid French to two of the staff who scurried over to switch on the bank of coffee machines.

"You wish for coffee my Lord? Lady?" Pascal bowed respectfully to Penemue and Kim.

"Not for me." Penemue smiled up at him. "I think I am off to shower, but Lady Kim may wish some." He turned to Kim with a query in his eyes.

She shook her head. "Not for me either, but perhaps I should take some up for Eönwë?"

Pascal looked shocked. "No indeed Madame that will not do at all. We cannot have honoured guests carrying trays upstairs. One of my staff will prepare a tray for Lord Eönwë. I will make him a fruit drink that will help if he has imbibed too much. Will you be down to breakfast?"

"We both will." Penemue said firmly pushing Kim before him as he left the kitchen. "I imagine Lady Kim would also like to shower and dress."

He led her upstairs and along to hers and Eönwë's apartments. They got there just in time to see the Shaman leaving and quietly shutting the door behind him. "There. It looks as though Eönwë is in the land of the living."

The Shaman smiled and bowed to them. "Indeed he is awake and wondering where his wife is. I have given him something for the hangover and he has slept."

He moved away soundlessly and Kim began to wonder if everyone associated with the Grigori people had that ability to make no sound or perhaps it was just the thick carpeting.

"Well I will leave you here and no doubt I will see you in the dining room for breakfast which will be in two hours." Penemue cast an amused look down at her with his hooded eyes. "My brother Eönwë is indeed fortunate in his wife."

He lifted her hand and gently kissed it, then he glided away in the direction of the apartments which were allocated to him when he stayed at Vevey. leaving her staring after him with her mouth open.

Moments later her apartment door opened and Eönwë stood in the doorway wearing a bathrobe with his short hair ruffled. He grinned at her and pulled her through the door.

"You and I have business to attend to before either of us have breakfast and I have promises to deliver on." His breath was fragrant against her hair as he gently pushed her onto the bed.

ooOoo


	53. Revelations and Epiphanies

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all characters associated with them are in the public domain.**

**Author's Note: ** Many thanks for the reviews, as always they are greatly appreciated. I make it a rule never to demand or even ask for reviews. I write for the pleasure of writing and hopefully for the pleasure it gives people to read the stories. I know from the amount of favourite story alerts I get that people do read and obviously enjoy it and this gives me great pleasure.

One of my wonderful reviewers commented on the position of Thangorodrim on the real time world map and I did reply to them that I had considered making Thangorodrim a lot further north than Russia, however because I need the place to be in more reasonable proximity to places where the vampires and werewolves developed and had their strongholds, I decided to use a little poetic licence and make the mountain range for Thangorodrim a little further south, although not too far. However I do take on board the reviewer's excellent comments and in essence I do agree with them.

**For Ellfine: ** The notion of the Grigori can be very confusing, especially if one hasn't immersed oneself in the research in the first place! Grigori (or egrḗgoroi (ἐγρήγοροι) from the Greek) is the name for the Ainur that inhabited Kharsag, which we call Eden. It means simply 'Watchers' or 'Those who Watch and never sleep'. However they are still Ainur.

The earthbound Grigori, who are a group made up from those descendants of the fallen angels whose families managed to escape punishment, those who stayed behind voluntarily and in doing so gave up their ability to communicate directly with Eru and also the descendants of both groups still keep the ancient orders of Seraphim and Kerubim.

For the purposes of this story the Seraphim are equivalent to the Valar and the Kerubim are equivalent to the Maiar.

Just like in Valinor where the Valar are the Powers and the Maiar are the lesser order of Ainur, so the Seraphim are the Powers and the Kerubim are the lesser order of Ainur. Like the Maiar, the Kerubim in this story do serve the higher order or power. All of the Grigori High Council are Seraphim but unlike those surrounding the throne of God, they are earthbound; Sariel, Joaquim, Penemue, Kokabiel, Asradel and others whose names were not mentioned are part of the High Council and are therefore Seraphim. Seth and his brethren are Kerubim. Asradel is not actually part of the angels who fell, he is a character created by myself, although his name is also mentioned as one of Sariel's other names.

Sariel's son is therefore an Ainur-Human hybrid, as is Eönwë's daughter. Technically I suppose they are Nephilim, although Allie's existence _has_ been sanctioned by Eru and her actual powers are not earthbound. Sariel and Eve's son has yet to show his particular abilities at this stage in their tale.

The Grigori are, in essence, of the Ainur, but they are earthbound either by choice or by transgression. However they have evolved into a distinct group on their own, which is why, when they earn the rescinding of their earthbound status by helping Eönwë and his merry band against Herumor and his heinous gang, they will not immediately return to the Timeless Halls. Eru deems that they will have trouble fitting back in, given their more earthly nature. Instead they will be given a choice not too dissimilar to Elrond Peredhil and his family. They may stay in modern Middle-earth until they become weary and then they will be transported to Tol Eressea and beyond that to where the Valar reside for healing.

Of course this is just for the purpose of my story. See the end of this chapter for some actual information on the Grigori. This information is by no means exhaustive or comprehensive and of course many myths and legends have sprung up about this group over time, however archaeological and anthropological evidence has been uncovered in what once was the Sumerian empire, now Iraq which shows that a group of humanoids, very unlike the Neolithic man of the time existed in that area and appeared to be quite highly advanced. Of course mainstream religions prefer not to acknowledge such research. The church is not inclined to give credence to anything that makes angels anything other than supernatural and spiritual messengers of God. I am of the opinion that myths and legends often have basis in reality.

"_The Lord spoke: "Have no fear, Enoch, good man and scribe of goodness. Come hear my voice. Go speak to the Watchers of Heaven, who have sent you to intercede for them. Tell them, You should intercede for men, and not men for you. Why did you leave lofty, holy Heaven to sleep with women and, to defile yourselves with the daughters of men and take them as your wives, and like the children of the earth to beget sons, in your case giants? Though you were holy and spiritual, living the eternal life, you defile yourself with the blood of women, you begot children with the blood of flesh, and like the others you have lusted after flesh and blood as do those who perish. Because they perish I gave them wives so they might impregnate them, have children, and nothing be lacking on the earth. But you were spiritual and immortal for all generations of the world. So I gave you no wives, for Heaven is your proper dwelling place."_

_**1 Enoch**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 53 – Revelations and Epiphanies**

**A Police HQ in London**

Finrod picked up his mug of tea, leaned back on his chair and read through his report. It was really amazing how his English had improved. Satisfied with everything on the page he sent it to print.

Although he was part of a rather select team which included Jim, Jan Hall and Alun Davies, they were currently part of a large, particularly nasty, kidnap investigation. The attack on the small Devon village and massacre of the inhabitants had not been forgotten, but the enquiries were ongoing, despite the official line that it was an act of terrorism. So rather than have a small section at what the Police Commissioner termed 'a loose end' they had been seconded to the kidnap case. Not that Finrod minded all that much, for the first time in a very long time he felt useful. In any case, since the attack on the village, all had gone quiet with the werewolves. There had been a huge public outcry over the massacre and even Herumor had at least the sense to know when to pull back from making further attacks on what was, if not a major world power now, then at least a country that drew the world's attention still. That kind of large scale adverse publicity was not something he was willing to court at this stage in the proceedings.

As Haryo to the Noldoran Finrod had his appointed tasks in the Noldor royal court of course and then there was Amarie and his family; they had certainly kept him on his toes for a good long while, but after the first newness of children, then grandchildren and great-grandchildren and still running around doing the work of the heir of the Noldoran he felt almost as though he had ceased to exist as a separate person altogether.

He was Prince Finderato, but where was Finrod Felagund, the King of Nargothrond with people to administer and major life or death decisions to make? He and Amarie now lived virtually separate lives except for formal occasions, it was not that they didn't love each other any more, but because after thousands of years in marriage Elves no longer always needed to be constantly in each other's company. He and Amarie often now spent many hundreds of years apart involved in their own interests, or rather he in his work supporting his father or visits to friends and she doing whatever had caught her fancy. Up until his departure for Middle-earth she had been spending time with her family in Valmar. She had only been home for one yén (1) when Finrod's dreams had started.

No, the real truth of the matter was that Finrod had started to question his very purpose in Valinor once again. The whole of Valinorean society seemed hollow and contrived to him and the everlasting peace, while wonderful, could also feel like a cage and the cage door had only truly felt open when he finally set his feet in a very troubled Arda Marred again only a few months ago. Now he had purpose and he was loving every minute of it. It did really feel that he had always been a police officer. The job was both rewarding and distressing sometimes, but at least he felt alive for the first time in a very long while.

His musing was interrupted by Jan coming back from her lunch break. He watched with an amused smile as she dumped a bag down with the name of one of the High Street clothing stores on it. She sat down and opened another bag which contained a chicken salad sandwich from Greggs the bakers, a packet of Doritos and a bottle of Coke.

"I see we're going the healthy eating route today Jan." Jim said cheerfully. He dropped a half a dozen buff folders in her tray and she groaned when she saw them. "Getting ready for your date tonight?"

He pointed at the bag on the floor and grinned slyly at her. He was not disappointed when she rose majestically to the bait being offered to her.

"How many times do I have to tell you lot that it...is...not...a...date." She scowled ferociously at both Jim and Finrod. "It's just two friends going out for drinks and a bite to eat. In any case Maedhros knows I am gay." She sank her teeth into her sandwich savagely.

Finrod gave her an innocent smile. "Really? I thought you'd been rather grouchy the past few days."

"Don't you dare pull that 'I don't understand English' crap with me." She snapped back. "You know fine well that in this modern day and age, gay means that a person prefers members of their own sex to have relationships with."

"Does Maedhros know?" Inquired Finrod. "I believe _he_ thinks it's a date, although the concept of dating is not well known in Valinor."

Jan allowed herself to be diverted from her burgeoning righteous anger. "You guys don't date? How the hell do you get to know each other then?"

Finrod swilled the last of his tea down and handed his mug to a passing Police Constable with a pleading smile. The young constable rolled his eyes but took the mug with him over to the kitchen. People in the office rarely refused Finrod when he smiled at them.

"Well..." He began. "Ellyn and Elleth meet in very much the same way as they do among humans; at work, at a function or a family gathering. A very common place for young people to meet is at the festivals, especially those held at Valmar. The Midsummer festival is a particularly good one for that and all the Valar and the Maiar attend that one so it's a very gay...um...merry occasion. Once a young person does meet the love of their life, which they tend to know straight away, then it's usually a matter for the parents to invite guests for an occasion or a feast and include the love interest. The two young people get to know each other properly among family and eventually they might walk on the beach or in the woods alone and gradually go out together to feasts and parties in the houses of their friends, but not usually until they are almost at the point of marriage. Picnics are very popular."

Jan smirked. "So they're like chaperoned dates?"

"I suppose so. The difference being that here young people go out on un-chaperoned dates and they have sex that night. Among my kind the act of lovemaking is taken a lot more seriously, for by carrying that act out a couple are bonding themselves to each other. I am not saying it doesn't happen, but the concept of a one night stand is foreign to the Eldar."

Jan flushed to the roots of her hair. "We humans don't _always_ have sex on the first date!" She protested weakly.

Inside, the idea of having sex with Maedhros on the first date made her feel a bit weak at the knees, followed by a feeling of outright astonishment that any male could actually make her feel the way no man had ever made her feel since she became sexually aware. Of course Maedhros was hardly an _ordinary_ man by any stretch of the imagination. She'd actually always realised deep down that she was bisexual rather than wholly lesbian, but had never met any man who'd managed to make her want to choose a male partner...until now.

Finrod managed a very credible surprised expression. "I thought it was a rite of passage for human relationships. It's all about the physical act is it not? Surely this is why divorce is so common. For creatures with such a short lifespan, humans can certainly pack a great many relationships and marriages into it!"

"What can we say." Jim grinned at him as he entered the fray. "Live fast...die young!" He turned to Jan and poked the bag on the floor between their desks with his foot. "So...you gonna show us what's in the bag? Enquiring minds need to know."

Jan twitched uncomfortably. "Er...it's nothing...just some clothes...I needed some new stuff."

Jim made a dive for the bag and Jan tried to snatch it back but he held it high over his head. She gave up and slumped morosely back down onto her chair. "Have it your way." She said sulkily.

Finrod laughed softly as Jim took out a very pretty bunch of material in a very pretty shade of blue. Once shaken out and held against him, it turned out to be a very pretty strappy dress in a soft filmy material. It had a slight silver thread shot through it which subtly altered the colour in certain lights and the colour would go well with Jan's short dark hair and blue eyes.

"Oooh _shiny_." Jim cavorted about holding the dress against him.

"It's not your colour and you'd have to shave your legs." Alun Davies swept past Jim, took the dress off him and handed it back to Jan. "Leave the poor lass alone. What she does on a date and what she wears is her business." He smiled at Jan. "It's very pretty though. Maedhros will like it."

This sent Finrod and Jim off into fresh peals of laughter. Jan scowled horribly at all of them, folded the dress up and put it back in the bag.

"For god's sake. Did someone put out a worldwide bulletin about my night out or something? There's nothing wrong with wanting to look nice." She grumbled.

Finrod stopped laughing. He got up and dropped a light kiss on the top of her head. "No indeed and joking aside Maedhros will appreciate that you went to so much trouble. I do know for a fact that he is greatly looking forward to tonight."

"Is he?" Jan suddenly felt as though she was suffocating and got up to head for the ladies loo. As she contemplated her reflection in the ladies room mirror she realised that she felt racked with nerves. She'd never been on a date with a man..._ever._ She had no bloody idea what to do or what to say. What if he wanted to kiss her or something? She had a sudden mental vision of the beautiful Maedhros with his shining green eyes and long red hair bending towards her for a kiss and had to grasp onto the handbasin for support. What the hell was wrong with her? Two minutes with a beautiful Elf and she was ready to say goodbye to a lifetime of dating women!

Of course then there was the matter of her rapidly encroaching age, at least compared to an Elf, and his immortality, not to mention his mother. She had met Nerdanel, but only when everyone else was around and they hadn't exchanged more than a couple of words of greeting with each other. What if Nerdanel didn't like her?

"You like him very much." Finrod's soft voice intruded on her thoughts and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"What? Fin...this is the ladies toilets for god's sake! What part of 'ladies' are you not understanding?"

He laughed merrily and came further into the room. "Well considering that you are currently the only female working on this floor, I rather doubted that the room would be full of other females all seeing to their toilet." He came over and put his arm around her and she leaned into him grateful for the support. "You should not worry so much tithen pen. Meeting the love of your life should be a natural thing, even among humans. I am not even sure why it isn't the case, unless it is because your lifespan is so short that you feel that by packing a great deal into it, it somehow makes it longer. Whatever the reason, you and Maedhros are attracted to each other and you might just have to accept that the love of your life is male and not female. I can see...we _all _can see...how deep your attraction is to him and he is receptive. Don't let past events get in the way of it. Tonight you will look beautiful in your pretty dress and Maedhros will surely think so...he thinks so now no matter _what_ you wear. Go and have fun, stop worrying and let whatever will happen, happen naturally."

He dropped another kiss against her short hair and then left the toilets leaving Jan feeling confused, but oddly comforted.

Finrod sat quietly at his desk and cast his mind back to another time when he counselled someone in a relationship. That someone had been his brother Aegnor and the woman in question had been a mortal called Andreth. Aegnor had come in great distress to Finrod asking for his counsel and all Finrod could do was to warn Aegnor about the problems surrounding getting involved with one of the Secondborn. Yet in the end Aegnor had his moment with Andreth and then realising what he had done sought to distance himself in order to give her the opportunity to find happiness with one of her own kind. At least that was what he had told himself. The fates of men and elves are very different Finrod had counselled him and whilst he would never have pressured his brother, he was reluctant to see either Aegnor or Andreth hurt by the inevitable separation as Andreth eventually went where Aegnor could not follow her.

He would not do that again. For some reason this time around among humans had made him realise that sometimes, even if time is short, you have to make the most of it. Maedhros and Jan were both consenting adults and if it gave them pleasure even for a brief time, then who was he to speak against it? What was it that Arwen Undomiel had said of her love for the mortal Aragorn? That she would rather have a short mortal lifetime with him than all eternity alone? Finrod mentally bowed to the wisdom of the Evenstar and sighed. Maedhros deserved some happiness after years of trailing after his lunatic father for the sake of a couple of jewels and a hideous oath that _nobody_ should have been made to utter.

ooOoo

**A few hours later...**

"Do you think we maybe should have said something about the fact that he's immortal and she's not?" Jim asked anxiously as he sat down on his barstool at the local pub. He pushed Finrod's Corona over to him and poured his own lager from the bottle into a tall glass.

Finrod frowned at the pale gold Corona beer, gently fizzing in the bottle. A piece of lime was sticking out of the top of the bottle and Finrod felt a bit bemused. "Don't I get a glass for this? And why do I have a piece of fruit sticking out of the top of the bottle?"

Jim sighed. "You asked for something different to wine...well, this is different. It's a Mexican beer, a bit like a lager. You push the lime into the bottle and it flavours the beer. It's nice, stop whingeing and just try it. Honestly...some mother's do 'ave 'em." He rolled his eyes heavenward.

"I drink it out of the bottle?" Finrod pushed the lime into the neck of the bottle and sniffed appreciatively as the aroma of the lime assaulted his nostrils. He licked his fingers and grinned in delight. "I like this lime...it's very sharp but such flavour. We have no such fruit in Valinor. I wonder if it could be grown there?"

"Dunno." Jim said, his attention drawn by a group of pretty girls standing at the bar. They were typical of young women out on the pop, skirts so short they barely qualified even as a belt, skimpy tops revealing a lot of flesh, but aside from that they all had the smooth skins and shining hair and beauty of youth and they were _more _than aware of the beautiful Finrod who seemed to sit in a pool of his own light no matter where he went. "I'm never going to have a chance with any woman hanging around with you." He said mournfully.

Finrod looked up in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"See?" Jim's tone was accusatory. "You don't even realise that they are falling over themselves to get your attention. I might as well not even be here. It's really not fair."

Finrod glanced at the girls causing a flurry of flirtatious movements most of which he found immensely amusing. "They are not worthy of you Jim. You are a descendant of the line of Elros Tar Minyatur and the line of Numenorean Sea Kings. You have the blood of the Evenstar and Elessar running through your veins. When the time is right, you will meet your own Evenstar. You are meant for better things."

"That's as maybe." Jim growled. "But I the meantime I'll take the pretty, very unworthy jail bait."

"And you a police officer." Tutted Finrod with a smile. "If they are jail bait as you say, then we should be asking them for their identification proving that they are old enough to drink and you should not even think of bedding them in case of statutory rape."

Jim took a sip of his beer. "You're probably right. What's really scary about this conversation is you coming out with terms like statutory rape. So if I am the modern day version of Aragorn, does that make you the modern day version of Legolas? Every hero has to have his sidekick."

Finrod raised one golden eyebrow. "Sidekick? No Elf is a sidekick, but I am your partner I suppose. And how can I be a modern day Legolas when the real Legolas is still alive and well?"

"What's he like?" Jim leaned forward eagerly.

"Thranduilion?" Finrod shrugged. "He seems a nice enough young ellon. He's a paler version of his Adar I suppose. He did the right things; helped save the world, sailed to Valinor, met a nice girl married her and now has a large family. He rarely speaks of his time in the Third Age, but more because he still mourns the passing of Gloin's son, Gimli, even after all these millennia. He is a fine warrior, so I have been told although I have only seen him in competitions during festivals in Valinor and that is no judge of his abilities as a fighter. He is different to his father, but even so, I still think his father is the better man. Now _there _is an Elf to be reckoned with, a warrior of the old kind. Kept the shadow at bay for centuries with nothing but his will. He held his people together until Mirkwood became green again and has survived millennia alongside humans."

"I like Thranduil as well." Jim said soberly. "But I still think that what Legolas did was very loyal and brave."

"Undoubtedly." Finrod agreed. "And by all accounts he is a good Elf to have at your back, but I do not know him very well. Thranduil is an impressive Elf, Legolas would have a lot to live up to beside his father. And getting back to your sidekick comment, I think having Finrod Felagund, the King of Nargothrond at your side might do better than having a pale imitation of Legolas."

"True." Jim grinned at him. "Although you did get eaten by a wolf."

"How very unkind of you to mention that small fact." Finrod grimaced at the memory. "And I did speak to Jan about Maedhros, but I decided not to make an issue of the fact that he is bound to Arda until the end and she will die and move outside the Circles of the Earth after a short but dynamic life. I thought it might put a bit of a dampener on her night out with him. I did not want to be...how do you call it...a party popper?"

Jim fell about laughing. He tried a number of times to stop the whoops of laughter but ended up being completely unable to say anything coherent. After a while he finally managed to calm himself down to occasional bouts of giggling which alternated between him mopping the tears of laughter up. Finrod waited patiently while he sorted himself out.

"It's 'party pooper' not party popper." Jim cackled.

Finrod joined in the laughter. "All right, I didn't want to be a party pooper. I think they are old enough to make these decisions for themselves and the subject is bound to come up. I gave advice on a similar matter once long ago and I think I probably ruined the lives of two people, one of whom I loved dearly and the other whom I respected greatly. It wasn't until she was in the latter part of her years and while talking to her that I finally realised that I should have kept my big nose out of it. I am not going to make that mistake again."

"Very wise." Jim agreed sagely. "Giving advice is always a bit dodgy at the best of times. If you're right about whatever it is then it's fine and everything in the garden is rosy, but if you're wrong they never stop blaming you."

"They will be fine." Finrod took another swig of his Corona and then stared at the bottle critically. "This is actually rather nice. Very refreshing. I may have to start a lager brewery in Valinor when I return."

"Do you miss it?"

Finrod looked at him. "Valinor? Not really...actually not at all."

"Not even your wife?"

Finrod shrugged. "We often spend many many long years apart, but we are always together..." He tapped the side of his head and then his heart. "...in here. And she is _always_ there, even when we are not physically together. I will see her again whether it be next year or in a few centuries and she will still be there when I choose to return. Missing her is not relevant. I am here and I am glad to be here."

ooOoo

**Early hours of the next morning....**

Jan Hall felt like she was walking on air. One kiss, that was all it took to turn her into a gibbering drooling teenager. The night had been one of magic. Maedhros had looked devastatingly beautiful and she, even if she said it herself, had looked and felt like a princess in her pretty dress. It was something she wouldn't have normally worn and the moment it had slid over her body she knew she looked akin to beautiful. He had thought so and said so and the rest of the night had dissolved into a fuzzy golden haze.

In fact so much so that what happened when she parked her car in the road outside her small house came as a shock to the system. She had taken Maedhros to Jim and Finrod's flat where he was going to stay for the night and driven home in a blissful dream. She was just about to alight from the car when she heard a ghastly scream and there, pooled in the light from the street lamp in front of her stunned and horrified gaze, she watched as a figurefrom nightmare loped from the darkness of some bushes and literally ripped the head of a man who was walking home with his wife.

Her hands were shaking, but she started up the car again and frantically punched in Finrod's speed dial for his mobile phone, even as the werewolf finished with the woman, spotted her in the car and sprang in her direction. Finrod answered even as she jammed the gear in reverse and spun backwards with the werewolf reaching out with his long reach to try and grasp the front of the vehicle. She immediately shifted the gear out of reverse and slammed her foot on the accelerator. The car shot forward, but the werewolf had managed to leap onto the roof and she could see the bulges in the metal roof as it tried to punch its way through it.

"Jan? Are you all right?" She vaguely heard Finrod's tinny voice through the phone. "Jan...please say something."

"Help me Fin." She yelled down the phone. "There''s a bloody werewolf using his claws as a tin opener on the roof of my car."

"Where are you?" Finrod's voice was calm and through it she managed to gain a vestige of calm herself.

"In my road. Oh god Fin...it just killed two people in front of me. A man and his wife." She tried to keep the panic out of her voice.

"Are you moving Jan?" She recognised Jim's voice as he took over the mobile.

Jan ducked to avoid a particularly heavy blow on the roof and spun around the corner, taking it sharply to try and fling the creature off or at least unbalance it. "Yes, just going into Harfield Road. I don't want to head towards the main road where there are lots of people. It would cause massive panic. I'm heading back to your flat instead by the back route."

"Okay, try and get onto Grosvenor Road. It's a residential street, turn right at the T junction at the end of Harfield. Keep driving. Fin, Maedhros and I will meet you on that road. Try and stay calm Jan."

"Okay" She whispered. Her mouth was dry and her heart was hammering. Surely she hadn't found bliss with Maedhros just to get eaten by a bloody wolf for god's sake?

"Jan?" Her heart leapt as she heard Maedhros's voice on the phone. "Meleth nín, we are coming. Try to hold on. Le annon veleth nín." (2)

Even though he spoke in Sindarin, she knew instinctively what he was saying and she felt a warmth spread over and through her.

"I love you too." She said before she could stop herself. It was as though she had no control at all over her feelings or her mouth.

"I know." His voice was warm and loving. "We are nearly with you. I can see your car..._and _your passenger."

ooOoo

**NOTE:**

**For those who are interested to read, the following is just **_**part **_**of the mythos surrounding the Grigori (Watchers, Shining Serpents, Fallen Angels):**

In the writings of _Enoch 1_, there appears to be about two hundred angels who fell ( a very small number I would say), and it names about nineteen of them (spelling variations observed) It also lists the most prominent among them and Semjaza as their leader.

In the _Book of Enoch _is mentioned that a group of angels lusted after mortal women. And just to confuse the church altogether, there is a very brief excerpt about this group in Genesis 6:2-4 --

"That the sons of God saw the daughters of men, that they were beautiful; and they took wives for themselves of all whom they chose".

The **Watchers** or **Grigori **are the group that this passage speaks of. They are said to look like human beings, but much taller (at least seven foot and above) and larger and they are silent. Their features have an almost serpent-like cast and mostly they were either fair/white haired or red-haired. There are no records of dark-haired or dark skinned Grigori and a close friend of mine pointed out that putting that down in writing seems like rather a racist view, until one remembers that angels are meant to be incorporeal and any human form they take can be as they wish. One would assume that if the situation warranted it they could appear with both dark hair and skin. For them it would be a matter of choice. In Jewish legend/lore it is said that there are good and evil watchers, the good watchers residing in the 5th Heaven, while the evil ones reside in the 3rd Heaven.

The mysterious eighth order of angels, the gentle Grigori,were originally created by God to be Earthly shepherds of the first humans. The Grigori were both physically and spiritually gigantic, at least by the standards of the people who later wrote about them. Their serpent-like features and the feathered cloaks with which they clad themselves also gave rise to the description and name of Shining or Feathered Serpents and probably gave credence to the myth that they had wings. They served early humanity as vast reservoirs of information concerning the finer points of civilization, and their selflessness was beyond compare. They were also called the Watchers, as it was their job to observe humanity, lending a helping hand when necessary but not interfering in the course of human development.

In the Book Of Enoch, it describes that God had sent a legion of angels to earth in order to watch over and assist man during the beginning of civilization. These angels taught man sciences which were forbidden by God such as the magic in herbs, reading the stars, divination and sorcery.

Enoch goes on to say: "...but they chose husbands and wives from among the humans and led greatly debauched lives, neglecting their heavenly duties..." This angered God greatly and he banished the "fallen".

Sadly it seems that these angels were not suited to this job and instead of playing a positive role they began to teach man sciences that God had deemed to be forbidden. These subjects included astrology, divination, herb craft and magic. To compound this, they also began to lust after some of the women they were supposed to be guiding. In order to cohabitate with these women they even assumed suitable physical forms. Although the church might argue that angels have no gender and therefore are unable to procreate anyway, the following excerpt from Genesis 6:4, points out that "the sons of God went to the daughters of men and had children by them". The resulting half-breeds were named as the **Nephilim**.

In essence, in endeavouring to carry out their duties the Watchers had become more human than God had intended them to be.

This kind of bad angelic behavior could not be tolerated and as a result the Grigori were taken from their posts, punished and imprisoned under the earth. Although they appealed to Enoch to speak on their behalf to God, they were to remain bound for seventy generations. Interestingly, if you take approximately thirty years between human generations, this meant that they were only bound for about nine hundred years altogether. Enoch doesn't say _what_ numbers were used so this is only guesswork and I suppose is open for interpretation. I always think that nine hundred years couldn't have _seemed_ like a long time to a human man who is purported to have lived to the ripe old age of four hundred and thirty years. Perhaps God didn't mean seventy generations of man.

As for the Nephilim, their offspring, it has been suggested that one of the main reasons for the great flood, was not only to punish man, but to cleanse the earth of the half-bred creatures created from the union of fallen spirit and flesh. However it would seem rather more logical to assume that these events may have taken place as the glaciers from the Ice Age were melting and sea levels were rising rather than the hand of God. Other stories show that the Nephilim were rounded up and massacred in front of their Grigori fathers as part of _their _punishment before being bound.

Among the Strega (Italian Witches) the Watchers are called the Grigori. In the Strega Mythos, the Watchers were Gods who guarded the Heavens and Earth. Over time the Greeks made them Gods of the 4 winds, and the Christians made them creatures of the Air. In Stregheria (Italian Witchcraft lore) they are called the elements from the altar. The Grigori are of a "higher" realm and guard the portals to the gods.

In "A Dictionary of Angels" by Gustav Davidson, the good Watchers are portrayed as a high order of Angels, (Archangels), also known as Grigori or **Irin**.

**Chief of the Grigori who did not fall are Archangels: **

Uriel, Raphael, Raguel, Michael, Zerachiel, Gabriel, and Remiel

**Partial list of Angels who Fell:**

**Araqiel **(also Arakiel, Araqael, Araciel, Arqael, Sarquael, Arkiel, Arkas) taught humans the signs of the earth. However, in the Sibylline Oracles, Araqiel is referred to not as a fallen angel, or Watcher, but as one of the 5 angels who lead the souls of men to judgement, the other 4 being Ramiel, Uriel, Samiel, and Azazel.

**Armaros** (also Amaros) in Enoch I taught men the resolving of enchantments.

**Azaze**l taught men to make knives, swords, shields, and how to devise ornaments and cosmetics.

**Gadriel** taught the art of cosmetics.

**Baraqel** (Baraqiel) taught men astrology

**Bezaliel **mentioned in Enoch I, left out of most translations due to damaged manuscripts and problematic transmission of the text.

**Chazaqiel **(sometimes Ezeqeel) taught men the signs of the clouds (meteorology).

**Kokabiel **(also Kakabel, Kochbiel, Kokbiel, Kabaiel, and Kochab), is a high-ranking, holy angel but, in general apocryphal lore and also in Enoch I, he is a fallen Watcher, resident of nether realms, and commands 365,000 surrogate spirits to do his bidding. Among other duties, he instructs his fellows in astrology.

**Penemue** "taught mankind the art of writing with ink and paper," and taught "the children of men the bitter and the sweet and the secrets of wisdom."

**Sariel **(also Suriel) taught mankind about the courses of the moon (at one time regarded as forbidden knowledge).Like Metatron, Suriel is a prince of presence and like Raphael, an angel of healing. He is also a benevolent angel of death, (one of a few). Suriel was sent to retrieve the soul of Moses. It is said that Moses received all his knowledge from Suriel, (although Zazagel is credited also with giving Moses his knowledge). In Cabala he is one of the seven angels that rule the earth. His inclusion in the Fallen group is actually a wide speculation, it is possible that he wasn't part of the group.

**Samyaza **(also Shemyazaz, Semjaza, Shamazya, Semiaza, Shemhazi, Semyaza and Amezyarak) is one of the leaders of the fall from heaven.

**Shamsiel**, once a guardian of Eden, served as one of the two chief aides to the archangel Uriel (the other aide being Hasdiel) when Uriel bore his standard into battle, and is the head of 365 legions of angels and also crowns prayers, accompanying them to the 5th heaven. He is referred to as one of the Watchers. He is a fallen angel who teaches the signs of the sun.

**Kasdaye**, (also Kesdeya, Kasdeja) a fallen angel who teaches "a variety of demonic practices, including abortion." according to the Dictionary of Angels. Kasdaye is one of the seven angels reputed to have led the apostate angels.

_yén, _a measure of time used by the Elves. One yén was equivalent to 144 years.

_Le annon veleth nín_, Sindarin, I give my love to you.


	54. Houston, we have a problem

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all characters associated with them are in the public domain.**

**Author's Note: ** Many thanks for the reviews, as always they are greatly appreciated. I make it a rule never to demand or even ask for reviews. I write for the pleasure of writing and hopefully for the pleasure it gives people to read the stories. I know from the amount of favourite story alerts I get that people do read and obviously enjoy it and this gives me great pleasure.

"**Cordelia:** I personally don't think it's possible to come up with a crazier plan.

**Oz: ** We attack the Mayor with hummus.

**Cord****elia**: I stand corrected.

**Oz**: Just keeping things in perspective. ...

**Cordelia**: My point however is, crazy or not, it's pretty much the only plan. Besides, it's Buffy's, and she's Slay Gal, you know, Little Miss Likes-to-fight. So...

**Xander:** I think there was a 'yea' vote buried in there somewhere. ...

**Angel: ** Well, he's not crazy about germs.

**Cordelia**: Of course. That's it! We'll attack him with germs!

**Buffy**: Great! We'll get him cornered, and then you can sneeze on him.

**Cordelia**: No! No. We'll get a container of Ebola virus, and... and, um... or -- it doesn't even have to be real. We could just get a box that says "Ebola" on it, and, um... _[snaps her fiers]_ chase him. _[everyone is silent]_ ...With the box.

**Xander**: I'm starting to lean towards the hummus offensive.

**Oz**: He'll never see it coming. _"_

_**- Graduation Day Pt 2, Buffy the Vampire Slayer**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 54 – Houston, we have a problem**

**Grosvenor Road...a residential street somewhere in London**

Jan knew that if this creature managed to slice open the car and drag her out it would take about two seconds for it to wipe her existence from the face of the planet. She couldn't get out of the car and try to run, it would have her as soon as she put one foot out of the car. She peered up the road, desperate to spot Finrod, Jim and Maedhros, but could see nothing yet. The street was empty given the time of morning. People were still tucked up in bed fast asleep. She jerked to one side as the werewolf finally weakened the metal of the car roof and thrust long razor-sharp claws through. She whimpered to herself and prayed for Maedhros to get there soon

The sharp claws managed to rend through the metal in another part of the roof and shortly she would have nowhere to go. Grosvenor Road was a fairly long road, but she was suddenly struck by the horrible thought that she had turned wrong at the T junction and that she was totally in the wrong part of Grosvenor Road while Jim and the others were in the other part...looking in vain for her.

As fate will always have it, the car's engine suddenly coughed and spluttered. She gazed frantically at the petrol gauge and saw to her horror that she was on empty. In all the excitement over her date she had clean forgotten to get petrol for the car.

"Oh no." She whispered just as the car came to a shuddering halt and the banging on the roof stopped, but only because the creatures steaming jaws and slobbering tongue were now pressed against the driver side window.

Her last minutes on earth had apparently arrived and they weren't anything like she had ever imagined they would be. Her money would either have been on going out in a blaze of heroic glory or in bed surrounded by children and grandchildren. Obviously neither option was going to be how it was. She was going to die in an agonised spray of blood as the werewolf pulled her arms and legs off as if she were nothing more than an insect and chewed on them.

She flattened herself against the passenger door, shut her eyes tight as the werewolf ripped the car door entirely off its' hinges and waited for a swift but gory death.

A death which never came.

"Don't you dare touch her you prehistoric ignoramus."

The words were soft but penetrating and Jan heaved a sigh of relief when she heard them, but they didn't sound like Maedhros or even Finrod. She heard a snarl and opened her eyes in time to see a dark blur drag the werewolf clear out of the car and fling it halfway across the street as though it weighed nothing more than a feather. The werewolf sprang to its feet, ready for battle, but with a speed almost invisible to the naked eye her rescuer literally flew over to it and knocked it flying with a powerful backhand blow. The next thing she knew the creature gave a sort of deep sigh and slumped in heap on the ground. She heard a soft footfall and turned in time to see Maksim walk calmly out of the shadows holding an anaesthetic dart gun. The dark blur morphed into another werewolf and then changed into Jeff Harris almost a second later.

He grinned at Maksim. "We make a great team."

Jan honestly wouldn't have been surprised had they high-fived each other.

Maksim gently put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right? It didn't touch you or hurt you in anyway?"

"No." Reaction started to set in and Jan shuddered. "I was just terrified."

He nodded in sympathy. "They aren't pleasant creatures, but then neither am I in my feral state."

Jim and the others finally drove up in the car and stopped with a screech of brakes and Maedhros leapt out of the back, knife in hand ready to do battle for his beloved only to find the job already done. He rushed over to her and caught her in his arms and then Jan Hall, policewoman and tough girl extraordinaire, did the unthinkable. She burst into tears and then fainted dead away.

"Normally have that effect on women do ya?" Jeff grinned ferally at Maedhros who laughed.

"Not until just now." He said bemusedly. "What are you both doing here?"

Maksim leaned over the prone werewolf, who by now had changed back into human form. "He's going to be out for a few hours and wake up with a hideous headache. There was enough anaesthetic in that dart to put a herd of elephants to sleep." He remarked. "Our friendly neighbourhood werewolf here wanted a bit of fresh air and Lord Ereinion didn't want him to come out alone, so I volunteered to do doggie watch. He sensed this one...." He poked the prone Lycan with his foot. "...from twenty miles away. Helluva tracker dog."

"Oy!" Jeff started up with a look of outrage on his face. "I heard that!"

Maksim flipped him the bird and Jeff just chuckled.

Finrod went over to where Maedhros was gently stroking Jan's face and talking to her in Sindarin. She was beginning to struggle to the surface. "We probably need to get her and everyone else out of here. I saw some lights going on in some of the houses. I imagine someone's already called the police." He said quietly. Maedhros nodded and stood up with her in his arms.

Maksim lifted up the unconscious Lycan. "Can we put him in the boot of your car Jim? Once Jeff sensed the werewolf we called Lord Ereinion...Erin...and he said for us to bring it back alive. Apparently the people at the London HQ of Grigori Enterprises want to take a look at him." He handed Jim a piece of paper. "This is the address, somewhere in Canary Wharf."

"Better make it quick then." Jim said unlocking the boot of his car. Faint sirens could be heard now. The police were on their way. "Fin, can you stay and talk to the uniforms when they get here? Then I can take Jan and Maedhros back to my place and then once Max and Jeff arrive we can head over to Canary Wharf with this Lycan. I imagine they've also found the bodies of the man and woman it killed in Jan's street by now."

"What was left of them." Jan muttered, on her feet by now but she allowed Maedhros to lead her to the car and they both got in the back seat where she sat with her face buried in his shoulder as he comforted her.

"Of course." Finrod smiled. "I will speak with them. Better let Alun know about possible problems with our uniformed colleagues, just in case. You know what they can be like sometimes." He turned to Maksim and Jeff. "What about you two?"

"We'll continue the hunt." Maksim confirmed after briefly conferring with Jeff. "We'll meet you at your flat Jim in about an hour, then we can deliver some nice fresh Lycan, still breathing, to the Grigori."

"Okie dokie." Jim slid behind the wheel and started the engine. He turned the vehicle and drove away slowly with his lights off. He didn't want any virtuous citizen taking a note of his number plate and they could all see people starting to come into their front gardens. Once clear of the immediate area he switched the headlights on and drove off at speed.

Finrod flipped his ID badge at the first male resident, well dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt, who was walking towards him. "Good evening sir, Detective Sergeant Finrod, Metropolitan Police, my sincere apologies that your sleep has been disturbed. Everything is under control." He flashed one of his brilliant smiles at the man who blinked and stopped in his tracks.

Finrod opened his mouth to repeat his statement and suggest that the man go back to bed just as the first of the uniformed police arrived with a screech of brakes. They jumped out of the squad car and moved cautiously towards Finrod and his companion... and they were not alone. Behind them a long black car with shaded windows also slid to halt and the figure that emerged from the vehicle was _wholly_ unexpected.

He was tall, as tall as Finrod himself, wearing a grey, impeccably cut Savile Row suit, white shirt and red tie. He bore the the overall facial features of a smoother, much more physically beautiful Sean Bean. His guinea gold hair was long for a policeman, it swept his collar, but it was the glow around him and the sense of something different and wholly supernatural that flowed around him in a bright aura that made Finrod realise that he was in the presence of some sort of higher being. The last time Finrod had experienced anything like that was when he was in the presence of the Valar, but it wasn't any of them, he had known all of them by sight from an early age.

The man or whatever he was observed him silently for a moment. He gave Finrod's ID a cursory glance as one of the uniforms handed it to him and gestured for the officer to give it back to Finrod. He then opened the car door.

"Get in the car _DS_ Finrod." He said and even his voice sounded golden. From his use of Finrod's Detective Sergeant rank Finrod immediately surmised that this person knew _exactly _who...and what... he was.

"Clean up this mess will you." The golden man pointed to the damaged car and the policemen tipped his peaked cap in a salute. "Obviously just some car vandalism, make sure the residents are told that and that it goes in the official report. Take the car to the police impound yard, I'm sure its owner will come out of the woodwork at some stage. And Sergeant...get rid of these people please. Get them back into their homes, quickly, before anyone from the media catch on and get here."

He then got back into the car and motioned to the driver to drive on. Finrod sat silent in the back of the car, aware that this being smelled of freshly baked cookies and warm rich spice and exuded an aura of very real power, like, and yet unlike the Valar themselves. They drove along for a few minutes while the being leafed through a red covered file. Finally he closed it and turned to Finrod.

"You're a long way from home Finderato Arafinwion. Would you like to tell me what you are doing here in Arda and what happened back there?"

Finrod gathered up his considerable courage and coolly stared the being straight in his disquietingly bright blue eyes. It was like looking into the clear, crystalline depths of the blue sky. "Since you know my name and obviously what I am, perhaps you would like to return the compliment first?" He raised one eyebrow and became a Prince of the Noldor just by that one action.

The golden being stared at him for a moment and then threw his head back and laughed. "I can see that I may have made a major mistake in my job options way back when." He murmured, a peculiar comment which made Finrod frown in confusion. "Of _course_ I will introduce myself... where on earth are my manners? I am Chief Superintendent Roger Hamilton of the Metropolitan Police...er...at least _part _of me is. The other part you might not have heard of. My name is Semjaza and I am one of what the ancients liked to call the Watchers. Roger and I are sort of...blended with each other. My soul is in his body so to speak, along with his of course. We find we rub along together very nicely, almost soul mates really. I'd like you to fill me in on what exactly a bunch of werewolves, vampires and elves are doing rampaging around in my city...oh...and the full, uncensored version please, not the one you give the idiots up at the top to keep them happy."

ooOoo

**A few hours later...**

Jim, Maedhros and the others were now officially worried. After waiting for three hours with the human werewolf secured firmly but still out for the count, they finally bundled everyone in the car and Jim drove over to the address of Grigori Enterprises, London branch. They were met at the door by a young Grigori who introduced himself as Josiah and he was accompanied by two large, but very human, Grigori servitors who proceeded to unburden them of the werewolf. Neither of the two servitors appeared to be concerned about the fact that a vampire, two humans, one Elf and another werewolf were standing in the stark, but beautiful marble reception area.

"What do you intend to do with him?" Maedhros asked.

Josiah smiled. "We are not in the business of harming mortals Lord Maedhros, however we do need to find out about his origins and also where his orders are coming from. There are Kerubim here from Vevey sent by Lord Joaquim for that very purpose. We have methods of extracting information without harming the subject in any way. We are also very hopeful that once we find out how Herumor has turned these creatures we will be able to unravel the changes made to his DNA and restore him to himself, but we cannot promise immediate results. It will take much testing and research. In the meantime we will keep his Lycan side quiescent."

Jeff, who had just been standing back and listening, terrified in case these majestic looking people grabbed him and put him in a neighbouring cell, found his voice.

"H...how?" He stuttered.

Josiah raised an eyebrow at him. "How will we keep his Lycan half quiescent?"

Jeff nodded. "It...it's just that the doc at the military research place has me on all these drugs to help me control my Lycan half...to let it out when I need it to be out, but they do make me feel very woozy when I'm not in wolf form."

Josiah smiled at him. "It is possible that our people can help you with that, but you would have to volunteer yourself as a test subject and I suspect you have little faith that we will not abuse the fact that you would be under our control. However, you can choose someone to stay with you and witness the tests if you wish to join us tonight."

Jim turned to Jeff. "What do you want to do? I can't stay with you because I'm on duty tomorrow and neither can Jan,, but perhaps either Maedhros or Max can do it." He turned to Josiah. "Would you have an objection to Max doing it, although he is a vampire, he _is_ one of the good guys."

"We know of Maksimilian." Josiah said quietly. "We monitor all supernatural creatures as part of our work. We know that he abstains from ingesting human blood and has not killed in that way for at least a century. He may stay if he wishes. He will come to no harm from us."

Maksim shrugged. "I don't mind, but the first time you approach me with a needle I will be out of here faster than you can turn around."

They all laughed. Maedhros who had been quietly conversing with Jan entered the conversation. "Jan and I feel that perhaps I should stay as well, although my attitude towards testing is the same as Maksim's. If you come at me with anything sharper than your elbow I will defend myself."

"The thing is that we are missing one of our people." Jim said quietly. "And I honestly don't feel like sitting there in my flat all night waiting to hear if he's still alive. If he doesn't turn up by morning then I have to report him as missing and then everything about last night will come out and the shit will hit the fan, big time."

Josiah scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Was he not with you when you all left the scene of the crime?"

Jim shook his head. "No...I asked him to stay behind and talk to the uniforms...uniformed police officers who were on their way. We could hear the sirens. I thought Fin would be the best one to talk to them and now I feel really bad that I might have put him in danger."

Josiah sighed. "You had best all come up to the offices then and we will see if we can track him. You are referring to Lord Finrod are you not?" He didn't bother to listen to any confirmation. Instead he swept up the few stairs to the elevator lobby and beckoned for them to follow him.

Moments later they were sitting on large comfortable modern sofas in the relaxation area of the large, airy modern offices while the Shamans did a locator spell to try and find Finrod. A servitor came and served them hot and cold drinks and also light snacks. The only one of them not to partake was Jan who was curled up with her head on Maedhros's lap fast asleep, the events of the night having caught up with her. His long slender, but capable fingers were gently stroking her hair.

One of the Shamans approached Josiah as he stood in his office talking on the phone to Sariel in Geneva about the whole event.

"My lord? I am sorry to interrupt your call, but you may wish to see this."

Josiah turned back to the phone. "Lord Sariel? I think I will have to call you back, the Shamans have apparently found something of interest in their search for Lord Finrod. Yes....I will let you know what they have found and also the test results when we have them. We will take them to the Richmond house once we know what has happened to the Elda."

He put the phone down and followed the Shaman to the room where they had done the spell. Moments later he hurried out of the room with a frown on his handsome features. Jim and the others all looked up hopefully as he approached them.

"We have found your errant Elf." Josiah announced. He turned to Jim. "You are aware who Roger Hamilton is of course."

Jim looked bewildered. "Of course, he's a very senior officer in the Met, bit of a mystery guy really, went rocketing up the ranks after some trip to Iraq when he got injured in the line of duty, although what he was doing out there in the line of duty escapes me. What does _he_ have to do with Finrod not being back?"

"We are aware of Chief Superintendent Hamilton's meteoric rise in the Police, but apart from that, he is a person of interest to the Grigori. It was in the company of Lords Joaquim, Sariel, Seth and another Grigori called Jude Arsenio that Roger Hamilton sustained his injuries in an incident in the high valleys of Kurdistan. He barely got out alive and at least four people died in the incident. We have been keeping him and the other humans who were there under surveillance since they all came back as per the orders from Vevey..."

"Which is all very interesting but what has it got to do with Fin?" Jim suddenly stood up and drew himself up to his full height. For the first time Maedhros could see the line of the Sea Kings in him. His face had grown grim and his grey eyes steely. If Elrond or his sons had been there it would have given them a start, so much did he resemble his ancestors Aragorn and Isildur at that moment.

Josiah also seemed to recognise it. "My apologies Detective Constable Moore, I did not mean to seem evasive, but the fact is that Lord Finrod is, at present, in the office of Chief Superintendent Hamilton at this very moment. He does not appear to be under duress and is unharmed."

"But why?" Jim was completely confused now. "How did the Chief Super get involved?"

Josiah shuffled through the printouts he was holding. "According to the police report from the incident Miss Hall was involved in earlier, CS Hamilton came to the crime scene with the uniformed officers. According to the same report it was a Mr Hadleigh who lives in Grosvenor Road who called the police saying that there were two....enormous dogs or wolves of some sort, probably escaped from the zoo, his words by the way...in a death fight in the street and that there were also people who 'glowed'." His mouth twisted into a wry grin. "Aliens, according to Mr Hadleigh, running amok with ray guns. It seems that CS Hamilton happened to be on duty and decided to go along probably because it was a quiet duty and he was bored. I know I wouldn't be able to stay away if someone said that aliens with ray guns were running amok in the middle of suburban London."

"First time anyone has ever accused me of being ET." Maksim murmured under his breath. Laughter rippled among the group.

"For sure." Jim admitted to Josiah. "But you obviously think it wasn't coincidence."

Josiah's face grew sober. "We do not know. All we know is that we have been asked to keep an eye on CS Hamilton and report anything unusual.

"Well." Jeff drawled. "I'd say that werewolves punching holes through cars, ripping heads off and then getting shot with an anaesthetic dart gun definitely qualifies as unusual!"

"Okay, so you think that Fin will probably just come back home?" Jim persisted. "Presumably he isn't getting reprimanded or anything by the Chief Super."

Josiah laughed. "No indeed. He appeared to be drinking a glass of wine. I rather doubt that a senior police officer in the British Police would offer wine to someone he was about to reprimand, don't you?"'

Jan had woken up by this time and was listening to the conversation. "Look Jim, why don't we leave Maedhros, Jeff and Max here and I'll come back to your flat and stay with you until Fin gets home? That way you won't be sitting worrying on your own. I honestly don't feel like going back to my house just yet, the memory of those two poor people is still too near. I wonder whether the Chief Super visited that crime scene as well."

"I rather doubt it Miss Hall." Josiah replied. "You see, we _did _know about that one and we sent our own people to 'clean up' the scene. There is nothing there to see now, never mind report to the police. It is unfortunate for the family of course, but what remained of their loved ones is, at this moment, being retrieved from a hideous accident on a main road four streets away. We thought it best to turn it into an accident."

Jim slumped back down on his seat. "I'm not sure you should be telling me all this." He said wearily. "I'm pretty sure I probably ought to do something about it, like arrest you or something."

"If you insist." Josiah responded politely, but with a smile.

"To be honest, I don't have the bloody energy. I just want to go home and sleep for a week. Oh...and shower...a lot, in very hot water, then sleep some more." He stood up. "Okay, Jan you come with me if you can manage to detach yourself from Maedhros. We'll head back and wait for Fin at the flat." He turned to Josiah. "Is there a phone number we can call to check up on these three?" He waved his hand at Maedhros, Maksim and Jeff.

"Indeed there is, but if they have mobiles you should be able to contact them on those." He scribbled something on a small Postit note and handed it to Jim. "These are my land line and my mobile numbers. You can reach me any time at all on either of them."

Half an hour later Jim and Jan were curled up on the sofas in Jim's living room with a cup of hot chocolate, waiting for Finrod to either appear or for a phone call. Both of them were worried, but neither said anything to the other. Soon they were both fast asleep. Jim slumped in one sofa and Jan curled up on the other.

ooOoo

**Six am in the morning....**

Jim heard the key turn in the lock and shot off the sofa, tripping over the coffee table on his way and knocking his shin badly enough to bring tears of pain to his eyes. Consequently when the front door opened Finrod was greeted by the sight of an unshaven Jim hopping along the passageway swearing profusely.

On Jim's part it was all he could do not to fling his arms around Finrod and hug him till he squeaked, then he wanted to punch him on the nose for making them all worry and then coming in looking fresh as a daisy when everyone else was worn to a frazzle and looked as though they hadn't slept for a week or showered for that matter.

Finrod smiled gently at him. "What did you do to your leg Jim?" He didn't shut the front door behind him and that was Jim's first realisation that Finrod was not alone. He was about to ask who else was there when Finrod stepped out of the way of the doorway and gestured for a very tall blond-haired man to come in.

"Jim...do allow me to introduce Chief Superintendent Hamilton."

ooOoo


	55. The Scapegoat

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby.**

**Author's Note: ** Many thanks for the reviews, as always they are greatly appreciated.

**Ellfine **asked in her review if Semjaza occupying Roger Hamilton's body would be a problem for our Hapless Heroes from Valinor. It is a valid question and one which could gives rise to other questions so I will give you all a very brief synopsis of the events that lead up to the 'possession' which, in essence, is a synopsis of the book itself.

One of the outcast Grigori, of whom there are still a few, and a noted bad boy who calls himself Peter Gregory, decides to carry out a ritual to return the soul of Semjaza, currently hanging as a warning in the star system of Orion, into a suitable vessel, Semjaza being a very powerful Grigori who was the leader of the two hundred Ainur who fell from grace and was made an example of by God in his punishment which was worse than the others.

To do this Peter Gregory has to carry out a ritual, which is called Sila ag Bar (Path of the Soul in Sumerian) to the letter, but unfortunately the ritual itself has not been performed for millennia and the texts which must be spoken _exactly _to the letter have been lost over time. Only a handful of people have knowledge of the texts. Gregory has some of them but not all and the ritual also requires a human sacrifice, one soul for another, because that is the law of the void. If one soul is plucked out of the void, another must take its place.

In the book he starts off sacrificing girls in remote areas of the north east of the United Kingdom in order to carry out the ritual but the rituals backfire because he doesn't have all of the correct words. Because he keeps doing that every six months or so the police think he is a serial killer. They never catch him because he is very successful at disappearing and covering his tracks and all the police are left with are dead girls or no body at all and no clues which lead anywhere relevant.

Finally, desperate to make the ritual work and release the soul of Semjaza, who he believes holds great power, Gregory murders another girl in a London cemetery. This time he _does _manage to partially succeed and opens a rift between our world and the Void, but the ritual fails again and the rift is closed. However in doing so, he inadvertently releases something nasty from the void which piggybacks in on the ritual and which causes problems for the subsequent Crime Investigation people including the police.

Gregory attempts to clean up and decides to leave the country, but only a couple of days after he has left the cemetery after burying the girl's body in one of the long disused family crypts, a bunch of children dare each other to go and look at 'dead bodies' because they know that someone has been in the crypts and they assume it was somebody being interred. The children find the body of the girl, much to their horror, and the police are called in. A murder hunt is started and the officer who heads it is Roger Hamilton. He asks for Eve (now Sariel's wife) to be on his staff and they then get involved in a man hunt. At the time, unknown to them, the Grigori from Grigori Enterprises are also hunting the rogue Grigori.

Gregory escapes to Paris and this time enlists the help of a Witches Coven to hold the ritual again in the cellar of a house belonging to one of the Coven. Although Gregory is successful in summoning Pazuzu, the demon guardian of Semjaza's soul, the ritual fails once again and results in all present except Gregory and two children who are asleep upstairs in the house being slaughtered by Pazuzu. The Paris police start an investigation calling it Chambre de la Mort murders (Chamber of Death). Eve is sent by the British police as a liaison and meets Sariel, Seth and Joaquim there. Eve, however, assumes that they are hand in glove with Gregory and Sariel and Seth become murder suspects.

The events all eventually culminate in Eve being kidnapped by Gregory and taken to the Valley of Fire and Punishment in Kurdistan to be the sacrifice in Sila ag Bar. Roger and two friends also follow to try and rescue her and so do Sariel and his people. She is saved from sacrifice by Roger and also Asradel who calls on the Kerubim to come down to earth and judge all in the Valley of Fire, the baddies are purged by the Kerubim and die and the Powers that Be consider that the sacrifice has been made. Semjaza's soul is duly released, but so is the soul of Peter Gregory on the death of his physical body. Nobody among the mortals or the Grigori knows for sure where each soul went and at the time of Dark Power Arising, they _still_ don't know. Up to the point of the werewolf attack on Jan Hall in Dark Power Arising, _only_ Finrod Felagund knows the truth.

So Semjaza and Roger now share one body and although Semjaza's personality is by far the stronger and is the most dominant, Roger and he are enough alike for it not to be too much problem for either. Roger is now greatly enhanced both mentally and physically by the presence of Semjaza, hence his meteoric rise up the ranks in the police. Herumor and his antics are not really of much importance to Semjaza, in fact Herumor is pretty much like a cockroach compared to the latent power that Semjaza has, but it isn't Shem's time to shine yet, he is not at the zenith of his power. At the most, in this story, he will take a very peripheral and incidental part. Suffice to say that he has the powers of the Valar with a little extra 'oomph', but until he becomes accustomed to his new body, new mortal role and the modern world his powers are pretty much taking a back seat.

As for the exile...Semjaza was taken with the other Grigori who fell from grace to the Valley of Fire where they were all judged. What Nephilim offspring they had who did not manage to escape were slaughtered in front of them. Most of them were sentenced to be kept under the earth for 70 generations or until Judgement Day whichever came soonest. Semjaza was held to be the scapegoat for all. He was tortured like the others, but instead of being buried alive, his soul was sundered from his mortal body and he was hanged upside down in spirit form in the Orion star system. One arm was tied behind his back, his mouth was sewn shut so that he could not utter the true name of God, one eye was shut and the other left open so that he could see himself constantly falling. This was done as a permanent warning to _all _Ainur not to transgress against the commands of God. In my story that would _include_ the Valar and Maiar.

The quote below is from Angel the spin off show from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and it occurred to me that Jim, Jan and Finrod remind me a quite a bit of Angel, Wesley and Cordelia in the Angel series, hence the quote:

_ "(In the kitchen, Cordelia and Angel have just shared a moment of silence for Doyle. Angel goes back to scrambling eggs.)_

**Wesley**: Well, I'll be off then. Farewell, Angel. Who knows when our paths will cross again. 

**Angel**: Wesley. (_they shake hands)_ **Cordelia**: Do you even know where you're headed? 

**Wesley**: Rogue demon hunters rarely do. Wherever evil lurks, wherever the forces of darkness threaten humanity, that's where I'll be. (_Angel pours a glass of orange juice for Cordelia.)_

**Cordelia**: Oh, okay. Well, keep in touch. 

**Wesley**: Yes. Yes, I will. But now, the evil lurking everywhere bids me onwards! So... I go. 

**Cordelia**: Take care! 

**Wesley**: Yes. (_sets foot on first stair, then leans back into hallway)_ No rest for the wicked fighters. Through storm and rain. Heat. Famine. Deep, painful, gnawing hunger... I go. 

**Angel**: Breakfast? 

**Wesley**: Ooh! (_takes off coat)_ I suppose so! _"_

_**- From 'Parting Gifts' – Angel the TV series**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 55 – The Scapegoat  
**

**Jim Moore's Flat, Wimbledon, London**

Jim realised that he really was in no fit state to greet the Chief Superintendent as a guest in his home, but Finrod wasn't really giving him much of a choice in the matter. Nor was the Chief Super, it had to be said. He filled the small passageway with his larger than life golden presence and Jim began to see why the rumours were abounding about him.

Jim resigned himself to looking like a tramp who'd slept in the gutter all night and wearily gestured for Roger Hamilton to come in.

"Welcome to my humble abode." He said, trying for a joke, but it sounded feeble even to his ears. "Sorry about the mess, but we had a busy night and nobody got any sleep because of someone disappearing on us...not mentioning no names, not looking at nobody in particular." He glared at Finrod who had the grace to blush and hang his head.

"I'm sorry DC Moore...may I call you Jim?" Hamilton smoothly interrupted before Jim could retort. "That was actually my fault. I happened to hear the call and came out to the crime scene with the uniformed officers. It sounded rather intriguing, what with the aliens with ray guns and big dogs having a fight." He grinned at Jim and Jan who were standing staring at him with open mouths.

"Aliens?" Jan gasped. "What ....how....what?"

"Three _very _excellent questions." Hamilton sat down on one of the vacant chairs and crossed one leg over the other. "I was rather hoping you could tell me."

"Well they got the big dogs almost right." Muttered Jim half to himself.

Finrod came out of the kitchen where he had been preparing a tray of tea for everyone. He put the tray down on the coffee table and then sat down. "I'm afraid that would be me, the alien I mean. As I tried to explain to the Chief Superintendent...it's the glowing thing again." He was apologetic. "It was dark and I glowed."

"Not to mention the pointed ears." Hamilton interjected humorously. "They were a bit of a dead give-away really. I think poor Mr Hadleigh or whatever his name was had quite a turn when he spotted the ears. I think he thought he'd landed in an episode of Star Trek."

Jim stared at Roger Hamilton but found he couldn't withstand that clear crystalline gaze for very long and his gaze dropped. "Didn't Fin explain who and what he was?"

Hamilton sighed. "Yes he did, but I knew what and who he was anyway. I even knew about that insect Herumor's little Machiavellian machinations. What I really want to know is what he and the other Elves are doing here in Arda and how it is that he's a member of the Metropolitan Police." He cast a swift glance at Finrod who didn't look at all put out by the comments. "Not that we aren't delighted to have someone like Finrod Felagund, King of Nargothrond and heir to the Noldoran on the force, but it does beg a number of questions."

"I would have thought Fin would have told you by now. He was with you in your office for a few hours." Jim said quietly.

"And so he would have, except that he thought that you , Miss Hall and some others should be present when he explained." Hamilton glanced curiously around the room. "Except that I only see you and Miss Hall here."

"Ah...well." Jim hurriedly explained. "There _were _more of us, but we left them...Finrod wouldn't have known...they're..."

His voice trailed off awkwardly as he realised that if he mentioned Maedhros and the others being at Grigori Headquarters in Canary Wharf, then he was opening a huge can of worms that would beg even more questions that he wanted to, or even could, answer.

"Currently in the Grigori safe house in Richmond..." Hamilton calmly supplied him with the answers. "One vampire, one more Elf and two werewolves." He waved his hand casually at their surprised expressions. "I have my sources. How am I doing so far?"

Jim huffed a sigh. "It's not that I didn't _want_ to tell you where they were, it's just that...well...it's complicated and it was need to know. And you didn't need to know." He finished firmly, ignoring Jan's gasp as he virtually put his job on the line.

This time he did lock his clear grey gaze onto Hamilton's blue ones and this time he did not look away. Instead he called on the ancient line of his forefathers to give him strength and dignity. Hamilton merely looked amused. So the young descendent of Kings was beginning to try the hat on for size was he? He chuckled to himself.

"Peace child." Hamilton said softly. "I am not judging you and Finrod was most clear that by coming here I was doing so very much off the record. We _all _have secrets to keep. I will tell you mine if you tell me yours and _no-one_ will hear of them from me. This battle...this darkness that Finrod tells me young Eönwë is here to fight is not mine, not yet at least. I am not yet come into my own. I can be of little help to you while I am still so weak. I must regain my full strength before I can be of any use to _anyone_."

Jim didn't break his stare. "I don't understand."

"No." Hamilton sighed. "Of course you don't. I am not just Chief Superintendent Roger Hamilton, although he is here with me. I am also Semjaza, one of the Ainur fallen from grace and punished by my soul being sundered from my original body, now restored into the body of Roger Hamilton. He is me and I am him. I carry both sets of memories. However the ritual used to restore my soul to a fleshly form sapped a great deal of my spiritual strength and the changes made at a cellular level to Roger in order to withstand the soul of an Ainur being placed inside his body were drastic. We are _both_ exhausted. In the fullness of my restoration I could join your battle and this Herumor creature would not be able to withstand my light, but I have many miles to go before I sleep and many trials to undergo before I am whole again." He leaned forward. "And now I have told you much about myself and my current state, the favour I ask of you is that you do not tell the Grigori, either here or in Vevey, who and what I am. They know that Semjaza is embodied somewhere and they seek him, but I prefer to avoid them for the time being."

"But surely being among your own kind would be better for you." Jan had been quiet up to now.

Hamilton smiled gently at her. "You would think so wouldn't you? But no, they will seek to gain control over me and yes, they would place me on the path towards my full knowledge and power, but every step of the way would be monitored by them. I cannot allow that. Lord Anu sought to do the same many, many millennia ago and I did not like being herded then. I like the idea even less now. I must do this my own way. Events have already been set in motion to this end. It is just unfortunate that Herumor should decide to try and bring his master out of retirement at this point in time, but I trust Eönwë, his people and now my Grigori brethren to firmly put him in his place."

"We probably could have done with your help." Jim said sadly. "But if you're not up to speed it would be wrong of us to involve you."

Finrod smiled encouragingly over at Jim. "Indeed it would and Lord Eönwë doubtless would not hear of it anyway. I take it that we cannot tell Eönwë either?"

Hamilton shook his head. "I would prefer that you didn't, but at the same time I don't want you to lie to him. He would know it if you did anyway. Perhaps I will go and speak with him myself when he returns from Vevey. I just do not want my fellow Grigori to know. They would place strictures on my actions that would make it impossible for me to develop and heal as I should."

Jim sat with a frown on his face while Finrod and Hamilton were talking, but finally he spoke. "They won't hear it from us." He said firmly. "You have your reasons and I respect them. All I ask is that if things look dark for us, you at least _consider_ acting. I mean if it meant the end of mankind or something like that."

Hamilton's expression was a strange mixture of pity and trepidation. "Ah, but you see...there lies the problem. I am not like the other Grigori, my young King, I never was. I was the favoured 'son' of Lord Anu and Lady Ninhursag...she who was as a goddess to the Sumerians. Not a blood son you understand since none in Kharsag procreated; although many took female form and were espoused to those who took male form...much as the Valar do I believe. However, like Eönwë is as a son to Varda and Manwe, I was also considered a favoured child to Anu and Ninhursag. Again, like Eönwë, I was given much grace by the Source of All Things. Eönwë has great power which has been temporarily tempered by the Source because he has to act within a fleshly form in Arda. The fount of his power lies in Valinor, among the Valar that he serves and is therefore filled with light. Mine comes from both a darker _and _a lighter place than the Blessed Realm. I come to earth at this time with the potential for great good, but I _also_ come with the potential for great evil. This is where Eönwë and I differ. _All _of his power is of the light and it is not a choice he has made. It is simply that he is a being of the light. I, on the other hand, must make a choice. If the choice is forced upon me before I enter the Trials, then I could go either one way or the other."

"You mean that you could very well _choose_ to be on Herumor's side if he found out who and what you are?" Jan asked.

"If he caught me while I am still vulnerable, the answer is yes and this is why I must remain covert. I am taking a great risk even telling you all of this. If you were not Eönwë's people, then I would not be here speaking to you at all. I would have laid low and not answered the call to the crime scene in Grosvenor Road." Hamilton's answer was candid. "I _must _go through my trials in order to regain my full power and then we shall see. However even if _Semjaza_ cannot assist you, Roger Hamilton _can _at least stand up and speak for you with the security services who, I believe, have been making rather a nuisance of themselves. As Roger Hamilton, I can also ensure that intelligence which might be of use to you actually reaches you, but to enter the fray directly right now...it would be folly for me and all concerned. And remember that if mankind go down, so do my own...Roger's family. He, or rather I, now have the welfare of a wife and two daughters to consider now."

He finished the last of his tea and then stood up. Jim and the others also stood.

"And now I'm afraid duty calls and I suspect I have raised more questions than given answers." Hamilton sighed and patted his jacket pocket. "But since this duty mobile phone hasn't rang yet, I guess that all is quiet on the western front."

Jim looked at Finrod uncertainly and the Elda rose to the task gracefully.

"Do you wish us to let Lord Eönwë know of your presence here?" He asked.

Hamilton shook his head. "No. I will contact him myself. He and his wife are currently in Vevey I understand?"

Finrod nodded. "Yes, but they are expected back the day after tomorrow."

"Then, work and family obligations willing I will call him and arrange a visit. I am curious to meet the others of your group."

He nodded at them and headed to the front door, but before he could leave Jan's question stopped him in his tracks.

"How does your wife feel about all this?" She asked quietly. "And your daughters..."

For a moment Hamilton stood as still as a statue. Then he turned to her with an expression so alien in his blue eyes that her heart almost froze in her chest and when the answer came it was patently obviously that it came from Semjaza, not Roger Hamilton.

"My wife will do as she is bid." His voice was deceptively calm, but there was an cold undercurrent in the tone which thrilled through all of them. He turned around at the door to face them and they could see that the expression on his face had softened again somewhat and there was a distinct twinkle in his eyes. "Oh by the way, let me congratulate you on a job well done in the kidnap case." And then he was gone before anyone could answer him or say anything else.

As the door closed quietly behind him it struck Finrod just how much golden light had left the small flat that he shared with Jim once Semjaza was no longer there.

He also wondered how a being of such light could willingly admit to there being a dark side to them, one that might portent something worse than even Herumor.

He wandered back into the living room and watched absently as Jan plumped up the cushions on the chair she had occupied during the night and gathered her things together.

"I guess my final question was the straw that broke the camel's back." She said in a more cheerful tone than she actually felt. Hamilton's sudden metamorphosis into something alien and formidable had shaken her to her very core. Semjaza had reeked with power. It had crackled around him like a static charge.

Jim managed a small laugh. "It was definitely a bit of a conversation stopper. You and Maedhros should get on like a house on fire. He's not much of a one for diplomacy either. More of a hit first ask questions later sort of guy."

"Maedhros _can_ be diplomatic sometimes." Finrod commented mildly. "I saw him act as such between his father and mother and his brothers on many an occasion. Although granted Maglor was much more of a diplomat. Maglor should never ever have been inveigled into making that wretched oath along with his brothers and indeed he was the last to speak it. There was reluctance in his voice as he repeated the oath, even my sister Galadriel said as much later on."

Jan took her small make-up mirror out of her shoulder bag and grimaced at her reflection. "Well, I certainly don't look the way I did when I first went out for my date with him a few hours ago." She said forlornly. "My pretty dress is utterly spoilt. Damn werewolf. Didn't he realise how much this dratted thing cost me? Note to self...wear heavy duty jeans, tee shirt, sweater and jacket or something monster proof when going out with or having anything to do with Maedhros and his friends."

Jim laughed. "Never mind Jan, I'm sure we can run to replacing the pretty dress. We'll just raid Eönwë's bank account. After all, as a Brigadier in the British Army he has to be getting the big bucks doesn't he?" Jim grinned mischievously. "It _was_ torn in the line of duty. If that fails we'll get Kim to mug him."

"Indeed." Finrod added his two pence worth with a smile, but then his face grew sober. "Roger Hamilton or Semjaza, whichever he is, worries me a little. I think perhaps I may have a word with Lord Eönwë in a little while. I have his mobile number."

Jan stopped trying to repair the wreck of her make up and stared at him worriedly. "Do you think you should Fin? He did say that he didn't want the Grigori to know about him and you don't know who is with Eönwë when you call him."

"True." Admitted Finrod. "But I am reluctant for a personage such as Semjaza to just turn up on Eönwë and Kim's doorstep without so much as a by your leave. I did not dislike Semjaza, quite the contrary, but he is of a kind of Ainur that we in the Blessed Realm do not have any kind of experience with. If he has even half the power that he states he will have, then he is more on a level with Lord Manwe and the other Valar, not a Maiar."

Jan slipped her arms through her jacket and buttoned it shut. "Well I was a little perturbed when he said that his wife would do as she was told. It's not the dark ages for fuck's sake. Women do have _some _say in their actions these days."

Jim let out a gurgle of laughter. "Something tells me that the Chief Super or rather Semjaza, hasn't quite left Neolithic times. There's definitely a spot of caveman in him with regard to the female gender."

Jan snorted. "If you ask me, he doesn't have any regard for women at all. He still sees them as a commodity to be used as and when he pleases just as he obviously did during Sumerian times. Let's hope that the Roger Hamilton in him convinces him to be a little less of a chauvinist. If I was his wife I'd be telling him to take a running jump." She waved at both of her companions. "Anyhoo...I'd better be off to get a shower and some breakfast. See you guys at work."

As the front door slammed behind her, Finrod turned to Jim with a thoughtful, slightly disturbed expression on his face.

"I do not think that Jan realises what Semjaza actually is." He said quietly.

"And what might that be?" Jim had finished dumping the tea things in the sink and was busy burrowing through the dry, but not ironed, laundry looking for clean boxer shorts before he showered. Items of clothing flew everywhere and were picked up with a sigh by Finrod. Jim was not the tidiest flat mate in the world.

"I am not quite sure myself." Finrod admitted as he neatly folded up a pair of Jim's jeans. He shot Jim a dark glance as the young man rushed around the small flat upending things in his new quest for a shirt that didn't need ironing.

Jim rummaged under the cushions on the sofa, held a very crumpled pale blue shirt up and inspected it critically.

"Do you reckon I could get away with this one?" He asked hopefully. "It has a ketchup stain on the left side and a bit of the chocolate from that melted Mars Bar on the left, but if I wore a jacket over it maybe?"

Finrod went into the small bedroom which he was occupying without answering and came out with a clean, beautifully ironed white shirt of his own which he silently handed to Jim.

"Semjaza is not the usual kind of Ainur, even among those who dwell in the Timeless Halls." He continued his musing as Jim dodged into the bathroom and then came out looking for the toothpaste tube which he'd used earlier on and left on the coffee table. "From the things I learned from Ingwion who sits with his family at the knee of the Valar there are perhaps only one or two there who would be his equal and who have a certain amount of autonomy since they do the direct bidding of Eru, but Semjaza is out there all on his own and I think he bears watching closely. Eru must have known that he will wield these powers once they are complete for good or for ill. He is here because Eru has allowed it to happen. The question is for what purpose?"

Jim popped his head back out of the bathroom "Do we have time for breakfast?"

ooOoo

**A few hours later at HQ...**

Alun Davies read the report through and then peered at Finrod, Jim and Jan over the top of his reading glasses.

"Are they gearing up for another attack do you think or is this just an isolated incident? Everything has been so quiet on that front, but I suppose it couldn't last forever."

"It is difficult to say really." Finrod frowned. "Jim and I have spent the morning going through the latest police reports from all the Metropolitan areas and only one other had possibilities. We checked it out and it actually _was _a dog attack. No werewolf involved, although I think that Jim opening the conversation by saying 'now about this werewolf attack....' did not really help our credibility."

They all looked accusingly at Jim who flushed to the roots of his hair. "_What?_ I was kidding. Any idiot could have seen that."

"They couldn't see your expression while you were on the telephone Jim." Finrod responded dryly.

Jim had the grace to look abashed. "Yeah, I guess there _is_ that. Still, they gave me in-depth information."

"Probably because they wanted to get the raving lunatic off the phone as quickly as possible?" Jan quipped and they all laughed, including Jim.

Alun looked at his small team affectionately. They were knitting together nicely. "Be that as it may chaps and chappesses, Lord Eönwë is going to want a_ full _report of the incident last night _and_, while I remember, you guys have received a special commendation from none other than our illustrious Chief Superintendent Hamilton. He doesn't praise lightly believe me. Quite a ruthless character although he can be charm personified when he wants to be. Apparently he turned up at the crime scene and spoke to you Finrod?"

Finrod nodded, but his reply was a little guarded. "Yes he did, but there really is something we need to tell you about that...and him."

"I'm _all _ears Detective Sergeant Finrod."

ooOoo

**The Observation Room, the Halls of Lord Manwe and Lady Varda, Oiolosse, Taniquetil**

"Detective Sergeant Finrod." Arafinwe repeated it in a rather dumbfounded way. "My son...my heir... is a _policeman_?"

Lord Manwe smiled at him and gestured for the Noldoran and his delightful wife Earwen to head down to the blue cushioned marble chairs scattered around the lower level of the observation room. He had finally bowed to the insistent pleas of the High King of the Noldor and encouraged by Varda, had invited said King and his wife to have a look at their son through the Eastern Windows. It was not something that was often done, in fact it was the first time Manwe had allowed anyone not of the Valar or the Maiar to look through the windows to the East, for through those windows, much of the happenings in the world of Men could be monitored.

"I think it suits him." Earwen said softly. "He looks better and happier than I have seen him look in a long while."

Arafinwe huffed a sigh. "I have to agree I suppose. He _does_ look happier, but then he always was a lad who needed purpose. While the children were young and in the first flush of marriage it was fine, but once the family had flown the nest and stated producing elflings of their own, I could see him growing more restive. I had rather hoped that being involved in helping me as the heir should would occupy him, but he has never been the same since being in Arda."

Lord Manwe smiled at Olorin who had come in with a tray of refreshments; sweetmeats from the bakers in Eldamas, fruit from the Orchards near Tirion and the pale sparkling wine from the vineyards of the Teleri. The Maiar inclined his head in answer to the greeting from both Arafinwe and Earwen and put the tray down on the nearest table.

"Thank you Olorin." Manwe nodded at his temporary herald who bowed and dematerialised instantly. He poured three glasses of the wine and handed one to each of his guests. He then gestured to the sweetmeats and fruit. "Please do help yourself." He waited until they both had a plate filled with food before carrying on. "Did you really expect Finrod to settle down in a subordinate position after being a king in his own right?"

The question was gentle, but it struck a sore spot with both King and Queen. Arafinwe shuffled uncomfortably in his seat before answering. "I suppose not my Lord, but after all the years and the period of time spent in the Halls, I had assumed...hoped...that he would want to start afresh."

Manwe turned to Earwen with a smile. "And you my Lady? What did you hope for."

Earwen met Manwe's clear blue gaze with a steady, equally clear, green gaze of her own. "I just wanted my son back. I wanted to hold him in my arms again. I did not really give a lot of thought to how he would be or even..." She coloured slightly. "...whether he would fit in or not. It was rather selfish of me, I can see that."

"No, no dear Lady." Manwe hastened to soothe her. "Not selfish and even if it was, it such selfishness could be excused in both of you as parents. The fact is that the dreams of his death were sent to him deliberately."

Arafinwe whitened and he gripped Earwen's hand with such force that she winced. "By Lord Irmo?"

Manwe shook his head. "Not by Lord Irmo, although he certainly has the power to do so. They were not sent from anyone here in Valinor, but by Eru Iluvatar himself. Finrod was one of a small group of Elves specially selected to help Eönwë in his task. And while we are on the subject, I would like you both the meet the servant of Eru himself."

A tall figure materialised in the room in front of the startled gaze of the King and Queen of the Noldor.

"Do allow me to present Lord Raguel. He is one of the Ainur who serves Eru directly and he is here to help liaise between ourselves and the Ainur currently on earth. Not Eönwë or Radagast, but a group of beings called the Grigori. You saw earlier that your son and his human colleagues met with a personage who named himself to be Semjaza. Semjaza was...is...one of that group. Raguel has kept a low profile and not gone among the people here. However given that you had an unexpected introduction to Semjaza, I felt that it should be discussed and Raguel agreed with me."

Raguel bowed to the Noldoran, who bowed back, hand over his heart. "Mae govannen my Lord Arafinwe." He bent over Earwen's hand and lightly brushed the back of it with his lips before raising glittering silver blue eyes to her face. "It is an honour to meet such a lovely lady."

Earwen blushed and found it difficult to tear her gaze away from Raguel. "My thanks my Lord."

Raguel seated himself and accepted a glass of wine from Manwe.

"Please forgive my bluntness my Lord." Arafinwe interposed in the pleasantries. "But if there are Ainur in Arda Marred already, why have Lord Eönwë, my son and others been sent there in the first place? Can the Ainur already there not handle this Herumor, whoever he is?"

Raguel smiled at him. "Ah, but that is a very long tale. May I call you Arafinwe? And a tale that requires many more refreshments and a long period of time. And as for who Herumor is, that is _another_ tale that I imagine was not passed on with the other stories of the time of Sauron and his Lord, our brother Melkor. But will you not please take your seat again and I will do my best to tell you everything."

Arafinwe sat down with a slightly mutinous look around his jaw. Earwen patted his hand soothingly.

Raguel stared at them for a moment with hooded eyes. Finally he spoke.

"Are you sitting comfortably children? Then let us begin." (1)

ooOoo

1. This is a phrase that I remember _very _vividly from my childhood in the 1950's. It is the starting phrase for a radio show called 'Listen with Mother' and a slightly later television show called "Watch with Mother." Both are early British television productions for British television.


	56. How to be an Evil Overlord

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby.**

**Author's Note: ** Firstly I must thank Ellfine for putting my stories A Singular Honour and Dark Power Arising forward for an MEFA. I am truly flattered. I have done some editing of the more glaring mistakes, but in the first story in the Eönwë and Kim series I have spelt Iluvatar as Iluvator. The incidences of this are far too many for me to correct, I simply don't have the time at the moment to go through the story with a fine tooth comb, so I have decided to just leave well alone. It will have to suffice that I admit my error in the spelling and do realise that it is incorrect. I have referred to Iluvatar as such in Dark Power Arising. However if you, my readers, do notice something that is wrong, please do let me know so that I can correct it as I go along. I don't have a beta reader, to be honest I don't really want one. As far as the actual mechanics of my writing are concerned I don't play well with others, but I do read my works over many times paragraph by paragraph in order to keep the errors down. Unfortunately I've had some rather unpleasant experiences with publishers over my original fiction who obviously have editors or edit themselves which is similar to beta reading. I've found that they want to change the fundamental thrust of my stories far too much. So I tend to avoid beta readers, no offence to those splendid people who do a fine job with other writers!

Reference Draugluin, of course I have gone slightly AU with this character and Thuringwethil. In Tolkien's actual works relating to these two characters, they do actually die. For the purposes of this tale they don't actually die as such and they are the founders of the Lycans and Vampires respectively.

_ "_ I will endeavour to treat the ancient, sylvan forests surrounding my keep in a kindly, eco-friendly manner. By no means will I rip up every tree within five miles of my castle in order to provide raw materials for my orc-breeding programme._"_

- The Evil Overlord List by Peter Anspach

Dark Power Arising

**Chapter 56 – How to be an Evil Overlord**

**Angband Enterprises Head Office, New York**

Herumor appeared calm on the surface, but underneath he was seething with fury. He perceived that his foothold in the deep mines of Moria was slipping and who would have in all conscience ever believed for a minute that those stunted bearded menaces with their sharp axes, the Naugrim, still lived there? And were being drawn into an alliance with the enemy? Although the Naugrim _had _historically always allied themselves on the side of the Light or their own side when it suited them. To add insult to injury, how could his servant have been so monumentally stupid as to allow himself to be captured? He was no doubt being interrogated at this very moment by that disgusting creature of light who masqueraded as a soldier in the British Army.

The erstwhile CEO of Angband Enterprises did not, of course, have any _personal_ knowledge of Eönwë and his disgust was more directed at the Herald's Ainur status rather than a personal hatred. Herumor had not been around during the War of Wrath during the First Age of Arda and the only information he had on the Maia who had commanded the Army of the Host was second-hand from Sauron himself. For some reason Sauron had hated Eönwë with a passion that bordered on obsession, something that Herumor had only vaguely understood at the time of Sauron's rise to power, although he had _appeared_ to listen as eagerly as the other Kings of Men; after all their very existence depended on them listening and doing as they were told.

Herumor was a practical creature...he could not be termed as a member of the race of men any more, his membership had long since run out...but at the time he honestly did not see why Sauron's hatred of his fellow Maia was even _relevant _in the plans for being sole Overlord of Middle-earth. It was especially irrelevant seeing as the aforementioned Maia at the time was sojourning in Valinor where nobody could touch him anyway. However, Herumor had merely sighed inwardly and never let on for one moment that he personally thought that Eönwë was Sauron's Achilles Heel and the hatred a waste of good evil intent.

Except that now that _selfsame_ Maia was the proverbial pain in _his _butt.

The attack on the small Devon village had been meant as a gesture and lesson solely aimed at the Herald of Manwe and it had worked delightfully despite the very vocal fallout of the British public. Who knew that they could be so united in times of stress? The British were usually so apathetic about things. Still, the Herald and his Elf and human minions had to witness a hideous massacre that they hadn't stood a cat in hell's chance of preventing. The Maia's palpable sorrow and distress had been nectar and ambrosia for Herumor and the sorrow of the Elves and men had just been the icing on the cake. The whole exercise had been more than worth the effort and the danger of exposure even just to make that puling Maia realise that Herumor meant business.

However, a good commander always knows when to pull back and Herumor knew that another such incident would not give such good results; Eönwë was alert now, he would be watching and his reach was long since the police were on his side and Herumor's grip on the Security Services had since been compromised by person or persons unknown. There would be no more such obvious attacks on a whole village, no matter how remote the place might be, but that did not stop him taking random children here and there. Their disappearances would be blamed on the multitude of paedophiles that the gullible general public believed roamed their streets and shopping mall or even kidnappers. Herumor's mouth stretched in the rictus grin, if only those block-headed humans could see that there were _much_ worse creatures roaming their seemingly safe streets...and _he _was one of them!

At the end of the day it really didn't matter whether the police, army or whoever were on Eönwë's side, Herumor was building an army that would rage through the continents leaving a swathe of blood and flesh in its wake.

It was a threat that would have sounded _very_ familiar to the ancient peoples of Middle-earth during the Third Age. The more things change, the more they remain the same.

He turned the flat computer screen towards him and perused the scientific research reports. He _did _give credit to the race of men for their technological advances; the computer and internet were indeed a marvellous invention. The current report on the screen was about the fact that the Lycans no _longer_ had to pass on the altered DNA cells through saliva from a bite in order to turn a human which was excellent news, however there was a drawback in that adults _still_ needed to be turned in that way, the serum which was delivered by needle was only wholly effective in the children.

He tapped his skeletal forefinger thoughtfully on his front teeth and frowned. So far stealing the children was currently the only effective way to build up the full strength his Lycan army with wholly loyal soldiers but unfortunately they also still needed to grow to adult size. His scientists and doctors had experimented with some rapid growth hormones, but they had some unexpected and very unwanted side effects and so the adult Lycans still patrolled and turned humans where they could in order to build up the numbers. If only that bunch of workmen had not stumbled onto Moria and his 'orc nurturing' operation there. Still, Moria was a vast place and hopefully it would take a long time for it to be explored fully, except now he had to send down someone else to replace the fool who had allowed himself to be captured.

Of course then there was the problem of the Vampires, whose loyalty to him had proved unreliable and spotty at best despite their initial subservience to his undoubted superiority. Only the main covens had come into the fold but there were countless smaller units who had now been warned of Herumor's culling of the mainstream Vampire population and those Elders who openly spoke against a union with Herumor and his people. These smaller groups had immediately withdrawn themselves to their more remote and secret domains or disappeared into mainstream human society. There were far too many of them to weed out effectively, there simply wasn't the time and his servants were too busy doing other very important things. In addition, vampires were as able to fit in seamlessly with the local population if they chose to as the Lycans when in human form. There could be masses of them all over the world, hidden in little groups among the human population and unless they chose to display their nature openly it would be difficult to tell at first glance. Only the older Lycans, the ones who were turned many years ago seemed to have an innate instinct for knowing that a vampire was near, the newly turned were as oblivious as the human cattle around them.

So instead Herumor had to settle for whatever intelligence his agents could bring back about the diaspora of the Vampire race and in that one sole issue that dratted Maia, the Herald, had a massive advantage given that one of the premier agents of the Vampire species was part of his own team. Herumor had no doubt at all that Maksim was in touch with many high ranking members of his race and that they all now knew for certain that Herumor was culling them because, unlike the werewolves, they did not acknowledge or submit to him as their supreme leader.

Which brought him to his next two problems...Draugluin and Thuringwethil. Draugluin had been activated; he had been seen, so there was no doubt of that. The Maia who had used the werewolf as his alter ego during the First Age had, rather bewilderingly really, so far refused to come into the fold. Herumor knew that Draugluin was by far the more powerful of the two and he had sent out blandishing and flattering messages to try and coerce the Maia to his side, so far to no avail whatsoever.

At first Herumor had thought that perhaps Draugluin had asked Eönwë for passage back to this Blessed Realm of theirs to ask for pardon, but as events were panning out, it seemed now as though he had his _own _agenda. He was neither with the Herald, nor was he with Herumor. This worried Herumor because it made him a huge unknown quantity and he didn't like unknown quantities in his plans for world domination.

Thuringwethil was _hardly_ any threat. Luckily he had managed to persuade the Vampire Elders to release her remains which even now sat in his state of the art vaults under heavy physical, magical and electronic guard. If any attempt was made to resurrect her, which would require reasonably close access to the remains and the blood of a number of humans, it was doomed to failure. In any case, the vampires who were left were unlikely to rally around a legend especially a legend who had not been seen among her people for more than several hundred years. Yet still her very presence remained a problem, one which he had been forbidden to deal with. Draugluin and Thuringwethil were not to be destroyed and powerful though he might be, Herumor still quaked inwardly at the idea of disobeying that command.

And this brought him to his final quandary. _Another_ mysterious group, beings of whom he had _no_ knowledge and had received _no _instructions about had entered the field of play. How is it that these strange beings from Grigori Enterprises were not known to He Who Sees All?

An interesting but troublesome thought then entered into Herumor's head...

What if _He_ did _not_ see all?

ooOoo

**The residence of Brigadier and Mrs Gary Matthews, Hampshire, England**

Eönwë remained pensive and silent long after Finrod and Jim had described the London suburbia werewolf incident and the subsequent involvement of Chief Superintendent Roger Hamilton aka Semjaza. Ereinion leant against the low window sill with his arms folded and watched the Herald.

"Any thoughts my Lord?" He asked finally, breaking the silence.

Eönwë shook his head and idly played with the two pens on his desk. "None that immediately come to mind on the issue of Roger Hamilton, I believe that I need to seek guidance on that. However Alun had a good point regarding the werewolf. _Was _it an isolated incident?" He lifted his hand as Jim opened his mouth to reiterate that they had done a trawl of all the incidents right across the board to see if anything matched. "...I don't doubt that you looked Jim. I have no doubt as to the efficiency of any of you. What I am saying is that perhaps after the massacre in Devon, Herumor _wants_ us to believe that these attacks are isolated in order to cover his tracks."

Alun stared at him across the desk. "You think that he's now ordering the werewolves to take random victims?" He bit on his thumbnail absently and his breath huffed out in a sigh. "I suppose that it would certainly take the heat off him with regard to Devon. And if he did it in major towns and cities then the figures of people being assaulted would just meld in with all the other crime rate figures."

"That accursed creature is doing exactly that." A calm voice interrupted the meeting from the doorway. Eönwë recognised the owner and immediately stood up. Everyone else just craned their heads around to see who the visitor was.

There in the doorway casually dressed in a light blue tee-shirt, soft brown leather jacket and fawn chino type trousers and brown loafers stood a tall figure unmistakably a Maia like Eönwë . Haldir recognised him immediately and cast a swift worried glance at Eonwe who smiled and shook his head gently.

"I am sorry to barge in on you all unannounced." Draugluin continued smoothly, his blue eyes twinkled at Eönwë . "I did knock and the door was answered by a wholly charming young lady who dragged me through it to see her battle plans for her toy soldiers." He turned his head as a tiny figure with blonde curls tied up in bunches sped through the door skidding to a halt in front of her bemused father.

"Look who I got Daddy." Her voice was filled with excitement and pride and Eönwë picked her up in his arms. "I opped...opended the door all by meself."

Draugluin's mirth filled gaze met that of Eönwë who shook his head in exasperation.

"Munchkin, what have Mummy and I told you about doing that? It could have been anybody." Even as the admonition left his lips he wished he could grab it back.

"But it _is_ anybody Daddy." Allie protested. "It's an anybody just like you."

Ereinion and the others choked back their laughter at the child's logic. Eönwë sighed. He realised that she recognised that Draugluin was a Maia like her father.

"Not _quite_ like me sweetheart. We just need you to be very careful."

Allie pouted beautifully. The round blue eyes filled with sparkling tears, the lower half of the rosebud lips thrust forward and trembled. "But I _was_ careful. The table with the flowers by the front door felled down all by itself."

Ereinion gave up holding his laughter in and his manic cackling infected everyone else. Haldir got up and held his arms out for the child with a huge grin splitting his face.

"Perhaps you should show me where the naughty table fell down tithen pen and we can clean it up before your Naneth or Erestor sees. Then we can go and see Erestor for a glass of milk and some of those lemon cakes he was baking this morning. Or perhaps we can watch Lady Nerdanel at her metalworking, then your Ada can talk to the visitor in peace." He beamed at Allie who gave Eönwë a sloppy kiss and willingly went from his arms to Haldir's.

"Thank you Haldir." Eönwë nodded with relief and gratitude to the former Galadhrim warrior who bowed and left the room with Allie bouncing up and down vigorously in his arms and chattering nineteen to the dozen.

"She is a _wonderful_ little girl Eönwë." Draugluin said softly. "I almost envy you, although I will deny being so soft-hearted if anyone challenges me. I thought it long past the time when we should talk to one another."

Eönwë sat down and gestured for Draugluin to also sit. "When we last met I told you what you should do." He said stiffly. "You refused to go back for judgement. How do we know that you are not in league with Herumor and his vile Master, whoever that may be."

Draugluin leaned back in the chair. "I am not in league with anyone, unless it be me, myself and I." He sounded vastly amused. "Can it be that you have not guessed _who_ his Master is?"

"If I understand you correctly, then I will not speak his name here and Herumor can only do so much with this Master of his in the Void."

Draugluin leaned forward at this and stared at Eönwë intently. "It is on that issue I have come to see you. Surely your people have told you of Semjaza?" He looked around at Alun and the others. "I can see by your expression that they have. _His_ soul was plucked from the Void through a portal opened by one of those called the Grigori...an Anakim they term him, outcast, wrongdoer, wielder of ancient magic..."

Finrod sprang to his feet, his face had gone as pale as death. "You speak of Melkor. What of Melkor?"

Draugluin stared at him. "Now _you_ I vaguely remember, although only through the memories of my children. You and some companions were imprisoned in Tol-in-Gaurhoth were you not?" (1)

Finrod slumped back down in his seat as the memories of that time filled his mind. To the others it seemed as though he had shrunk in size and he seemed immobilised by the horror of those memories. Eönwë was about to intervene, but Jim rose up from his chair and hunkered down in front of Finrod. He grasped the Elda's slim hands and held them in his own strong, square capable looking human hands. There was a long breathless silence while Jim stared into Finrod's distressed eyes offering his strength and love. Finally the Elda shuddered and his eyelids fluttered and closed. Gradually he relaxed as Jim exerted all his mental efforts into calming Finrod down. He had _no_ idea where it was all coming from; Celebrian watched in fascination as the descendent of the Sea Kings of Numenor, known for their healing hands, the hands of the King, worked their magic. Now _this _was something to tell Elrond, this was a descendent of their beloved Arwen and her husband Elessar in action.

Ereinion glared at Draugluin. "That was a terrible thing to do."

Everyone else apart from Eönwë, who was regarding Draugluin calmly, looked either angry or a bit confused.

"My sincere apologies." Draugluin seemed unaffected, for the most part, by the wave of anger suddenly directed to him by the people in the room. "I did not know the details. It was not I who was sent by Sauron to carry out the execution. I did not mean to upset him or resurrect painful memories."

Finrod struggled upright in the seat and thanked Jim with a tremulous smile. "You did not...well, you _did_, but I realise that you hadn't known the circumstances and didn't do it deliberately. They came for us one by one. They left me until last and I saw and heard the others die. I was chained and could not defend either myself or them and their screams haunt me still even though most are now Reborn. Of my own death I will not speak. But do not concern yourself. I _needed _to be reminded _why_ I came here. I needed to remember what they did, so I thank you for that at least."

Jan was staring at Finrod with something akin to horror on her face. She groped for Maedhros's hand and he held hers tight. "You were...killed by those things? You remember it?"

Finrod smiled wearily at her. "I cannot speak of it just yet. Perhaps later when this darkness has gone, I will tell you all about it, but we are digressing from the matters at hand." He looked up at Draugluin. "If you're saying what I think you're saying, the portal that this Grigori opened allowed something else through other than the soul of Semjaza."

A cacophony of sound immediately filled the room as everyone broke into arguing loudly at the same time. In the midst of it Eönwë sat and dully contemplated his fate as the din pounded his eardrums. Draugluin's inferences could only mean one thing; that his life was going around in circles. It seemed that he was doomed to be in a constant circular battle with Morgoth. He was numb and a felt very real fear, for himself, for his family...for everyone. If it was true, how could he fight a creature like Morgoth?

This time he did not have the Host of the Valar and the shining Armies of the West behind him. This time all he had was a bunch of humans, a gaggle of Elves and a group of Grigori, one of whom was responsible for freeing the scourge of Middle-earth in the first place.

_This_ just kept getting better and better.

ooOoo

1. _Tol-in-Gaurhoth _– Isle of the Werewolves


	57. Puff the Magic Dragon

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby.**

**Author's Note: ** Thanks to my reviewers. I have answered you individually although the Bank Holiday got in the way and I went to visit my son for a couple of days.

Of course our merry little bunch of adventurers mostly all live in the same household. It's just as well Kim bought such a large house to accommodate them. The numbers and individuals do alter as people leave to help somewhere else or join and it seems natural that Erestor, Nerdanel and Celebrian are helping Kim shoulder the burden of that. However it also occurred to me that it could cause problems when it came to normal family life for Eönwë, Kim and Allie and I thought it needed to be addressed somewhat. Nothing is ever perfect and the Herald's household is certainly not perfect _or _smooth running.

I had also mentioned the problems inherent with the Ainur retaining a fleshly form on an almost permanent basis and have used this chapter to address this.

"**Buffy**: Buffy want beer.  
**Giles**: You can't have beer.  
**Buffy**: _Want._ _Beer._  
**Xander**: Giles, don't make cave slayer unhappy."

_**- Beer Bad Episode, Buffy the Vampire Slayer**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 57 – Puff the Magic Dragon**

**The residence of Brigadier and Mrs Gary Matthews, Hampshire, England**

Maksim lay with his eyes wide open. He was watching the motes dancing within a beam of sunlight that had pierced through a small gap in the curtains. The burning question of the moment was not whether the small shaft of sunlight disturbed him, it was more _why_ was he not asleep? These were the daylight hours, the time he normally rested and all of the residents of Eönwë's household respected that. Not that they ever made any noise anyway. Elves _never _made any noise and Eönwë could appear suddenly and silently if he chose to. Not that he did _that _very often thank heaven. Therefore this morning, the only noises Maksim was aware of were Allie's piping voice as she talked non-stop to her mother while she was being dressed to go to nursery school and very faint noises from the kitchen as Erestor went about his household duties. Nobody had _asked _Erestor to be in charge of the household affairs, it was simply a position he had performed for many centuries with Elrond and Celebrian and he just slotted into it like a hand into a well fitting glove.

Now they had another guest, one who _should_ have filled him with distaste, but he felt quite ambivalent about him for some reason. Just down the hallway in the large rambling house they all lived in was Draugluin's room. He and Maksim had not yet met each other properly, but Draugluin's fame, like Thuringwethil's, advanced before him like a banner. He was a figure out of myths and legends and now he was here and currently sequestered with the Herald, Ereinion and the others, although not including Jeff Harris who was, Maksim presumed, a child of Draugluin. Jeff was currently away visiting his family.

Maksim, Maedhros and Jeff had left the Grigori house in Richmond-on-Thames only half a day after entering and returned back home to Hampshire to attend the meeting where Draugluin had made his fairly dramatic appearance. The werewolf that they had captured was still at Richmond, but after a few hours of extensive testing the Grigori doctors had given Jeff a series of injections aimed at giving him some decent amount of control over when he metamorphosed. He would have to go back in a week and be tested again, but Maedhros had volunteered to go with him for that.

The Grigori scientists and doctors had also been fascinated by both the vampire and the Elf, but had obviously been forewarned about approaching either of them with needles. However since both he and Maedhros had both eaten and drank in the Richmond house, Maksim had absolutely no doubt that their DNA would have been lifted and was, even now, going through testing. His lip curled with amusement; the attention they had from the Grigori had not come over as dangerous to any of them but there was much suppressed curiosity about their guests. The Grigori servitor, a human, had served Maksim with pig's blood without turning a hair. He had bowed to the vampire and offered him what looked like a priceless historic goblet brimming with blood as though he had been offering the finest wine in the cellars and whether it was that, or the metal the goblet was made of, it had been the most enjoyable drink he had tasted for a while.

The Elves of course _did_ feel mild disgust when he drank the blood that Eönwë made sure was in the house, although they hid it very well. Celebrian, Kim and Nerdanel were the most understanding of the household and little Allie was greatly fascinated, but seemed to take it for granted that this was what Uncle Max needed to drink, just as she needed milk and orange juice. It had been Erestor who had suggested that a small fridge be bought for Maksim's 'food' and it had worked out well. Yet Maksim still waited until nobody else was in the kitchen before he fetched a drink for himself and at the household dinners he ate ordinary food, something he did not need to do, but it gave a semblance of normality to his presence in the house.

Nobody was afraid of him in this household, yet they all knew that he was a predator. Perhaps it was the fact that the Elves were a swift as he was in their movements and if he had made a lunge for anyone's jugular he would have been pierced in a moment by the gold-fletched silver arrows that Haldir kept in a quiver on his back along with his bow. Even the modern world didn't separate an Elf of the Golden Wood from his bow. Haldir did not dislike Maksim, but he did not approve of what he was. For his part Maksim greatly respected the Galadhrim as a warrior. In any case Maksim had offered the Herald his devotion and because of that everyone in the household came under that umbrella. Maksim could and would no more hurt any of them than he would have hurt himself.

He felt comfortable and at home, so why couldn't he rest? Vampires did not sleep like humans, during the daylight hours they rested, not because the sunlight would set them on fire, but because somehow during the turning from human to vampire, the pigmentation of the skin was altered. They became pale in skin tone, except for the lips, mouth and eyes, and it was the lack of proper pigmentation that could injure them greatly if exposure to intense light was too great. Hence the preference to hunt when the sun went down. During the summer time Maksim could function adequately during the day as long as he wore dark glasses and the large areas of his skin were covered, he just couldn't strip off and sunbathe, not without suffering something like first degree burns. In the winter when there was cloud cover, dull days and rain he could walk outside with impunity, although the sensitive membranes of the eyes still required him to wear dark glasses.

There was also the fact that a vampire's strength and speed were sapped to a degree during the daylight hours. All in all vampires were primarily creatures of the night and the dark because of the physiological factors, but also because of their feeding habits. Food was better and more effectively stalked in the dark than in daylight.

Staking would not turn them to dust like the vampires in Buffy, it was merely a direct but _very_ messy way of disposing of a vampire as it would be for any creature through massive blood loss and the piercing of the heart. Decapitation would also work, but then decapitation worked as a method of killing for most creatures anyway. Without the brain the body simply could not function.

Crosses as a religious object did not burn vampires, but the type of metal that was used in the cross could and did. Silver was anathema to a vampire, so a silver cross would make a vampire hiss and draw back, but the religious _belief_ behind the cross had no effect on them. It was as though something in their changed skin made them allergic to silver. A gold cross had no effect, nor did a wooden one. Of all the myths about vampires much vaunted by movie makers, it was the Holy Water that probably had the most truth to it. It couldn't kill unless the vampire drank it, but the water burned like mild acid on their skin, again possibly because of the cellular changes in the skin,although there was no scientific basis for the facts and no apparent logical reason _why _water that was blessed by a priest had such a dramatic effect.

He turned over restlessly in the bed while random visuals of the lives he had taken down through the centuries of being a vampire revolved around his inner vision like a spectral, accusing kaleidoscope of torture. These visuals had not been there before and they were happening more and more frequently. The usual methods he used to fall into slumber were evading him today. Erratic thoughts were spitting out of his brain in rapid succession and milling around like unwanted visitors. He usually performed meditation techniques to calm his 'inner demon' down, but today even that inner spark of demonic possession was quiescent which was unnerving all by itself. He sighed, sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Something was happening to him, he just didn't know what it was.

Thoroughly puzzled by these events, he flexed his fingers and stared at them. They still felt strong, but something felt wrong. He stood up and looked around the room to find something test his strength on. His eyes alighted on the sniper rifle leaning against the wardrobe and he picked it up. Seconds later he was staring at the rifle which was now bent into a rough U shape. Nope, the strength was still there and he proved it further by straightening the barrel out again, although it would never fire another round again.

He sighed, okay, so he didn't feel tired and he didn't feel sapped as he usually did during the day. His supernatural strength was still fine, so physically he was as okay as he usually was, if one could call being a blood sucking demon okay. Well... if he couldn't sleep, there was no point lying in his room trying to force it. Going downstairs to offer Erestor and Kim some help seemed like the best way to occupy his time since rest obviously wasn't going to come any time soon.

It was as he passed the dresser with the mirror on it that he noticed something very strange. Normally he didn't even bother to look in mirrors. Vampires were soulless creatures of a lower order of demons who possessed and suppressed the human soul. Since the human soul was not fully conscious and it was the soul that generally looked out of the eyes and gave them expression, vampires cast no reflection at all, so there was no _need _for him to look in the mirror, yet as he bent slightly to pick up his dark glasses from the dresser he caught sight of something that he had not seen for a good few centuries.

He saw himself in the mirror and staggered back against the chair in both shock and alarm.

ooOoo

As meetings went it was not exactly boring, yet Draugluin had to resist the temptation to swallow everyone whole with the jaw cracking yawn that kept threatening to explode out of his mouth. After weeks of travelling around Europe trying to find his 'children', as he insisted on thinking of them, only to find himself thwarted at every move by Herumor's people either trying to kill him or capture him alive, he was utterly exhausted. He had chased those who had escaped from the bumbled kidnap of Elrond Earendilion's wife Celebrian, only to have them disappear as if off the face of the planet entirely somewhere in the middle of France. He had only just managed to evade capture minutes afterwards by the skin of his teeth.

He had absolutely no doubt that Herumor didn't _just _want to have tea and scones with him and a little tête a tête about old times; that sorry looking excuse for a cadaver _needed _Draugluin to be either destroyed or quiescent. After all, he already had Thuringwethil, if he had Draugluin as well they would be a matched pair of bookends for his mantelpiece. Draugluin had absolutely no intention of ending up like Thuringwethil, the way he saw it he had two choices, go to Eönwë and either ask to join in the fight with him, or to finally ask for passage home to Valinor and thence to judgement.

So it was that he finally came limping in to the UK and Eönwë after having paid some smelly little man, who apparently sweated garlic and red wine, an extortionate amount of money for forged papers and a French passport in Marseilles. He had finally admitted to himself that his children were no longer connected to him in any way. The mental link he had forged with the werewolves of the First Age was gone, whether by millennia of separation from him or by Herumor's machinations it was too difficult to tell and Draugluin could not manage to get any decent amount of time alone with a modern werewolf in order to find out. However, Eönwë _did_ have a modern, recently turned werewolf on his team and Draugluin wanted to see and speak to Jeff himself, so he had arrived on Eönwë's doorstep looking for sanctuary and hoping to see Jeff Harris only to be told that he was currently taking the opportunity of his new-found control to visit Lily and his nephew.

This morning Eönwë, his second in command, Fingon's whelp and Feanor's two eldest were currently filling him in on the situation. He and Eönwë had spoken quietly to each other earlier in his room where he had reiterated his genuine desire to help against the current darkness. Eönwë had sought counsel about that and the issue of Semjaza. The Valar had answered with acquiescence to Draugluin staying as long as he promised to present himself for eventual judgement in Máhanaxar; the issue of Semjaza would take a little longer and discussion with Raguel. Draugluin swore an oath of fealty to Eru, the Valar and Eönwë, in that order, and the Herald recorded that oath in his capacity of Oathkeeper of Eru Iluvatar.

Draugluin studied his fellow Maia critically. As the direct representative of both Eru and the Valar in modern earth the power should have been shining out of him, yet his power was muted and his features were drawn. _Perhaps it is the drab military clothing,_ he mused. Armies in the modern world did not shout out their power by wearing shiny mail or rich cloaks and magnificent helms denoting their rank and divinity, instead they wore garb that helped them blend in with their surroundings. Eönwë was dressed in desert combats this morning because later in the morning he was travelling on an official visit to Afghanistan and not returning until the following day. As a Major in the British Army he had served there among the troops and according to the records, he had lost a good friend there; had held him in his arms as the life drained out of him into the dusty desert floor. This visit would be different. He was going in his capacity as Chief of Staff to the General Officer Commanding. It would be in and out very quickly, as long as it took for the General to do his bit of encouraging the troops.

Eönwë's black beret lay on the table between them, the badge was blacked out and he wore no insignia, no red tabs to show he was a Staff Officer and no badges of rank except on a tab looped around his jacket lapel, nothing to make him stand out as a senior officer and therefore a target for kidnappers.

Draugluin chuckled to himself. Anybody who tried to capture the Herald as a hostage would be in for a very big surprise indeed. Still there was a strained look around his eyes, and the glow that usually emanated from him was dim as if he was struggling to maintain his fleshly form.

"Are you all right?" Draugluin's abrupt question interrupted Eönwë in full flow and took everyone present in the study by surprise.

Eönwë gave him a querying look. "Of course, why do you ask?"

"Because it's a problem for beings like us...the whole fleshly form thing." Draugluin shrugged. "It takes a lot of self control to maintain it, the power of the Valar does not reach Arda Marred. All beings, such as we are, have this trouble, but the Ainur who came after us and were made earthbound...the ones you recently visited...have managed to find a way to ease their discomfort. Their solution was borne from necessity, since they cannot shed their earthly forms. Did they not offer this help to you?"

The three Elves glanced from Draugluin to Eönwë in some surprise, this was not a subject that the Herald ever spoke about, at least not amongst those in his household, although Kim was probably more than aware of the difficulties. For Draugluin to mention it so openly and so casually in front of others was rather astonishing.

Eönwë sighed. "Yes, they gave me something that they say I should take regularly."

"Haoma?" The question was abrupt.

Eönwë looked surprised. "Yes...do you know of it?"

"I know of it. Have you not spoken to the Valar about it?" Draugluin leant forward and peered closely at Eönwë. After a few seconds he sat back in his chair with a queer smile hovering on his lips. "You haven't taken it have you?"

Eönwë flushed to the roots of his hair. "I do not see the need." He said stiffly. "I had no need of such things during the War of Wrath..."

"Then you're a prize idiot." Draugluin interrupted rudely. "You had Tulkas there during the War of Wrath and many other Maiar, here you are alone and this is not the First Age. This is modern earth and there are no pure spiritual beings; no wellspring of spirituality for you to tap into here. This, the Grigori have discovered, which is why they came up with Haoma. To mortals it is an hallucinogenic, used to bring them to a state of extreme ecstasy, but for us it is a way to access the necessary power to recharge us. It allows us to walk the Paths of the Moon as they call it."

Eönwë stared at him. "You speak as one who has used it."

Draugluin burst into a peal of laughter. "Of _course _I have used it, the first thing I did when I reactivated myself was research methods of replenishment of my spiritual power and then go in search of them. I finally managed to nail some Anakim in the Western Desert of Egypt down...not literally of course...and they gave me a supply of this Haoma. Now they send it to a mailbox for me every six months...a little goes a very long way." He held his hand out. "Where is it?"

Eönwë put his hand in his jacket pocket and handed over a small white packet. "You believe I should take it?"

"Of _course_ you must!" Draugluin sounded scandalised. "No wonder you are not feeling in charge, your power is being sapped just by being here. Eönwë, this is not the First Age, the magic, _any_ of the magic and power that existed during our time and the time of the Eldar is gone...it is completely tapped out. When the last of the Elves departed they took whatever was left with them. Those who were left behind either faded for the lack of it or they sought company with each other to sustain themselves and it was only the strongest who survived, people like Thranduil whose only drug was the forests and trees that he surrounded himself with. It is no accident that Radagast aligned himself with the Grigori who took refuge in Derinkuyu."

"It seems so wrong to rely on something like this."

Eönwë's reluctance was written all over his face, but he knew that Draugluin was right, as much as he wanted to deny it, he knew his power felt dimmed and it was affecting everything he did, even with his wife and daughter. He received a momentary boost when he communed with the Valar, but that didn't last long. It had been worrying him immensely. The night at Vevey when he had become very drunk had been as a result of the Grigori putting the Haoma in the wine. Joaquim had admitted that the food was also laced with it and the admission had shocked Eönwë to the core, but now, feeling as tired and stretched thin as he was, he was beginning to understand _why _they took it. He had been hoping against hope that his very stature as a Maia of Lord Manwe would be sufficient, but apparently it wasn't enough.

"They...the Grigori...put some in the wine they served after dinner. Kim and Sariel's wife had left the dinner table. They didn't tell me what was in the wine. I was so drunk and it was only afterwards that they explained that it was the Haoma."

Draugluin grinned. "That was a bit naughty of them, but how did you feel afterwards?"

Eönwë hung his head. "Euphoric." He admitted miserably. "As though I could move mountains although I was as sick as a dog a couple of hours later."

"The first few times of taking it will do that." Draugluin said matter of factly. "It should settle down after a while, but only if you continue to take it. It's necessary Eönwë, how do you think that the Grigori have survived all this time?"

"I hadn't given it any thought. I assumed..."

"Well, you know what the mortals say about assuming things...it makes an ass out of you and me."

Draugluin poured out a glass of water and measured a small amount of what looked like finely ground mixed herbs into it from the packet, humming the melody of the old 60's song Puff the Magic Dragon under his breath as he did so, much to Maglor's immense amusement. The pop culture reference was totally lost on Ereinion and Maedhros of course.

He swirled the mixture round with a spoon, peered at it and then handed it to Eönwë . "Down the hatch, there's a good boy. We need you at full strength and if you get drunk again, I'm sure that the rest of us here can manage to restrain you."

Eönwë took the glass and examined the now cloudy water dubiously.

"Do I have to hold your nose to make you swallow it?" Draugluin sounded vastly amused at the idea. "Just be thankful we don't have to roll you a spliff to smoke."

The Herald sighed and looked at the former arch-enemy of good. "I am going to regret allowing you to join us aren't I?"

Draugluin chuckled. "Only if I have to strong arm you into taking your medicine every day like a good little boy."

Laughter rippled around the small room. Eönwë took a deep breath and drank the water to the bottom of the glass.

"Good." Draugluin said mildly taking the glass off him and putting it on the tray. "Now let's talk about these modern versions of werewolves and if you fall asleep we'll wake you in time for your flight into the madness of Afghanistan."

Eönwë executed a little bow. "I would be most grateful." He said; voice laced with mild sarcasm.

He could already feel the Haoma taking effect. Everything felt strangely light. He could sense it swilling into his bloodstream and his normal glow which had been subdued suddenly grew brighter. The three Elves stared in open astonishment at the transformation.

"And _there _he is!" Draugluin said with a wicked smile. "I was wondering where you'd got to!"

ooOoo

As Eönwë obediently swallowed his medicine without a spoonful of sugar downstairs in the study, his wife was having her own problems with another stubborn little part Ainur.

"I don't _want_ it."

Allie's cheeks were bright red, the bottom lip was thrust out, the crystal tears were threatening to flood the bedroom. A small foot stamped hard on the floor and she crossed her pudgy little arms and drew her golden brows together in an attempt at a fearsome scowl.

Kim sighed and mentally counted to ten. "What's wrong with it Allie?" She tried to put a coaxing note in her voice, but in all honesty after half an hour of outright obstinacy she felt more like spanking her daughter than bargaining with her. "It's such a _pretty_ tee shirt and look, it has a lovely cardigan to go with it. See? The colours match."

"I don't _want_ it." The tears overflowed and one sturdy leg kicked out at the offending articles, but instead caught Kim's hand painfully causing her to let out a hiss of pain. "It's PINK!"

Even from where he was standing on the stairs Maksim could hear that the child was revving up for a tantrum of mega proportions. Eönwë had no doubt heard the beginnings of it and this was probably no time to ask him whether he thought that a vampire now had a reflection was a good or a bad thing. He turned and started to head back up to his room just as Allie had rushed to the top of the stairs followed by a very angry Kim. The door to the study opened just as she did so and just as Kim, exasperated and angry with her daughter, reached out and gave her a sharp smack on her leg.

"I will _not_ have you dictating to me young lady. _Or _lashing out at me."

Kim's reply was grim and Allie froze in utter shock. Nobody had _ever_ smacked her before. She gulped, held her breath until her face was fire engine red and then she let out a bawl that practically rocked the house.

People magically appeared from all directions. Erestor with flour up to his elbows from the kitchen, Nerdanel came out of the conservatory where she had been doing some sculpture, eyebrows raised in amusement, Celebrian popped her head out of her bedroom door, smiled knowingly and went back into her room, she had seen and experienced far too many tantrums of this kind in her time as a mother.

Haldir had shot in from the back of the house somewhere, arrow already nocked to his bow and ready to repel all invaders. As he passed Maksim, who was standing stock still on the stairs, he shot him an accusing glare as though _any_ fracas in the Herald's house could be clearly laid at his door whether he was guilty or not.

Eönwë who had come out of the study in time to hear his daughter declare that she wouldn't wear the tee shirt because it was pink and had witnessed the smack, was followed by a highly amused Draugluin and a bemused looking Ereinion. Maglor and Maedhros had wisely stayed in the study having recognised infantile tantrums from their own younger brothers.

"Kim?" Eönwë's soft voice interrupted the tableaux. He stared in horror at his red-faced daughter, currently bawling her eyes out and at the red mark on her leg. "Why would you _do_ such a thing?" He bent down and held his arms out to Allie, but before she could run to him, Kim stopped her.

"Oh no you don't." Kim said grimly. "You will go to your room young lady until you can learn that you don't talk back to your mother or kick her."

Allie stopped crying immediately and looked pleadingly at her mother. "Nursery school?" She loved the school and loved playing with the other children and Kim knew that.

"_No_ nursery school." Kim said firmly and she shot a warning look at Eönwë that made him stand up and take a step back. "I'm sorry Eönwë, she has to learn. She's going through the Terrible Twos and she's got to learn that she can't always have her own way. She gets spoilt enough in this household, what with everyone making a fuss over her every minute of the day. She's just a little girl and she needs to learn discipline." She pointed back up the stairs sternly. "Go to your room please Allie and do not come out until Mummy says so."

Allie's tears were now pouring down her face. She turned to her father with a look of such utter pleading that his heart nearly broke in two.

"I'm sorry sweetheart." He said sorrowfully. "You shouldn't have kicked out at Mummy like that." He felt as though he had ordered her execution and almost gave way to his desire to cuddle her better if it hadn't been for Draugluin gripping his shoulder and forcing him to remain where he was.

"Your lady wife is quite right my friend." He said softly. "I know your daughter has a Maia part of her, but the other part is a little human girl who needs to listen to her mother."

"She smacked her." Eönwë said in a bewildered voice. "Neither of us have ever done anything like that to her before."

"Then perhaps it is not before time." Draugluin's reply was quiet but firm. "You will undermine your wife's authority as a mother if you do not stand united with her on this."

The little girl ran up the stairs and they heard her bedroom door slam. The noise of heart-rending sobs filtered down to the stunned group assembled at the bottom of the stairs. Eönwë looked as though he would have liked to join her. He cast at look at his grim faced wife.

"I think we should talk." He said stiffly to her, shaking Draugluin's hand off his shoulder. The other Maia merely smiled and took no offence.

"Sure, we can talk." Kim stalked past him to the study door. Everyone parted like the Red Sea to let her past and the two Feanorian brothers hastily vacated the study. They also knew when a marital spat was brewing, having witnessed more than a few between their mother and father. "But if you think you're going to give me one of your high and mighty Maia lectures, better think again. Half Maia or not, Allie isn't a grown up and she needs to learn that when Mummy or Daddy say she has to do something, then she must do it and not argue the toss."

"It was just a tee shirt." Eönwë protested as he followed her into the study. "Surely you could have just let her wear something else."

"And if she had asked me properly and not done the stubborn, spoilt brat act, I probably would have given in, but she didn't. She screamed at me and kicked my hand, or is that an okay thing to do in Valinor? Oh...wait...I _know_ this one, of _course_ it isn't. Elven parents discipline their children all the time and...shock...horror...they probably even smack them occasionally." Kim sat down on one of the chairs. In truth she was shaking like a leaf inside, this was the first time she had ever properly disciplined Allie.

"I don't approve of this Kim." Eönwë allowed a mild scolding note to appear in his voice. "You don't understand..."

Kim sat up straight. "No, _you_ don't understand. I don't _care _whether you approve or not. We are equal in this parenting thing. I don't have to defer to you when it comes to our child and what's right for her."

Eönwë slumped down in his chair with a sigh. "No, of course not. I don't expect that of you. It's just that... to hit her like that..."

"_Smack_...not hit." Kim said shortly. "It was a short sharp smack and a warning. You're making it sound as though I just beat her within an inch of her life. Next thing I know the Child Services will be on the doorstep to put her into care. I _know_ she is part Maia Eönwë, but she's also part human and that was the side of her she was showing. We are in a terrible mess here, facing god only knows what, I won't have her turn into a cheeky rebellious brat because of that."

"It was just a shock." Eönwë nervously picked at a loose thread on his trousers, but at the same time couldn't help a frisson of admiration at Kim's newly-found confidence. "Everything is so fucked up. We aren't a normal household. We have all these people around all the time, we never get a chance just to be a proper family on our own. I'm so sorry Kim... about everything. I am just wearing too many hats. I'm a soldier, a commander, a Maia, an Oathkeeper of Eru, a husband and a father. I should be combining all of those things better." He buried his head in his hands.

Kim slid off her chair and knelt beside his. "I know...I know darling. Everything is climbing in on top of you. I do understand that. We have no control over that, but we _do _have control over how we conduct ourselves as parents and we have control over what is best for her and if that means an occasional spanking when she gets out of hand, then that's what we have to do. She will thank us later that we didn't give in to her all the time."

"She'll hate us." Eönwë said despairingly. "I don't want our daughter to hate us."

"She won't hate us...oh sure, she'll be cross with us for a few hours but the first time she wants something she'll be there looking all golden curls, sunny smiles and dimples and full of 'I love you Daddy'." Kim said cheerfully. "Do you want me to let Ereinion and the others back in now?"

Eönwë looked at her from under soot dark lashes. "No, I don't wanna, I think _I_ need a cuddle." He sounded so despondent that Kim rocked back on her heels and let out a peal of laughter.

Outside the study door Ereinion and Draugluin stood and stared at each other and Maedhros and Maglor heaved a sigh of relief. Erestor passed them to head for the kitchen. He winked and grinned at them but said nothing, he'd witnessed more than a few of these incidents himself while the twins and Arwen were growing up. Haldir chuckled, slipped the arrow back in the quiver and slipped soundlessly out of the house again. He had younger brothers and he knew how naughty elflings could be when they chose. Maksim came downstairs and joined Elves and Maia outside Eönwë's study door.

Ereinion turned to Draugluin and raised his dark eyebrows. "Welcome to the Madhouse."

"Anyone fancy going down to the pub for a pint?" Maksim asked conversationally to no one in particular.

"I'm in." Said Maglor cheerfully and his brother nodded enthusiastically.

"I thought you'd _never_ ask." Draugluin said. "Who's paying? I gave all my money to a horrible little human who reeked of garlic."

Maglor winked at him and produced a credit card.

Ereinion listened at the study door for a moment, but all was quiet inside, so he shrugged, reached for his jacket off the hall stand and followed them all out. Beer suddenly sounded like a _very_ good idea.

ooOoo

**Speculation about drug reference in the song Puff the Magic Dragon**

After the song's initial success, speculation arose that the song contained veiled references to smoking marijuana For example, the word "paper" in the name of Puff's human friend (Jackie Paper) was said to be a reference to rolling papers and the word "dragon" was interpreted as "draggin'," i.e. inhaling smoke; similarly, the name "Puff" was alleged to be a reference to taking a "puff" on a joint. The supposition was claimed to be common knowledge in a letter by a member of the public (who offered no qualifications for his expertise on the topic) to _the New York Times _in 1984.

The authors of the song have repeatedly rejected this urban legend and have strongly and consistently denied that they intended any references to drug use. Peter Yarrow has frequently explained that "Puff" is about the hardships of growing older and has no relationship to drug-taking. He has also said of the song that it "never had any meaning other than the obvious one" and is about the "loss of innocence".

On one occasion, during a live performance, Yarrow mocked the drug-related interpretations by reciting his own tongue-in-cheek drug-related reinterpretation of "The Star Spangled Banner", and ended by saying, "You can wreck anything with that kind of idiotic analysis."


	58. Out of the mouths of babes

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby.**

" Once upon a time there were three little pigs and the time came for them to leave home and seek their fortunes. Before they left, their mother told them " Whatever you do , do it the best that you can because that's the way to get along in the world.

The first little pig built his house out of straw because it was the easiest thing to do. The second little pig built his house out of sticks. This was a little bit stronger than a straw house. The third little pig built his house out of bricks.

One night the big bad wolf, who dearly loved to eat fat little piggies, came along and saw the first little pig in his house of straw. He said "Let me in, Let me in, little pig or I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in!"

"Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin", said the little pig. But of course the wolf huffed and he puffed and he did blow the house in and ate the first little pig.

The wolf then came to the house of sticks.

"Let me in ,Let me in little pig or I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in"

"Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin", said the little pig. But the wolf blew that house in too, and ate the second little pig.

The wolf then came to the house of bricks. " Let me in , let me in" cried the wolf. "Or I'll huff and I'll puff till I blow your house in"

"Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin" said the pigs.

Well, the wolf huffed and puffed but he could not blow down that brick house. But the wolf was a sly old wolf and he climbed up on the roof to look for a way into the brick house. The little pig saw the wolf climb up on the roof and lit a roaring fire in the fireplace and placed on it a large kettle of water.

When the wolf finally found the hole in the chimney he crawled down and 'KERSPLASH!' right into that kettle of water and that was the end of the troubles with the big bad wolf.

The next day the little pig invited his mother over. She said "You see it is just as I told you. The way to get along in the world is to do things as well as you can."

Fortunately for that little pig, he learned that lesson. And he just lived happily ever after!"

_**- The Three Little Pigs, A Children's Story**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 58 – Out of the mouths of babes**

**4pm: On the road to the Grigori house in Richmond-upon-Thames, England**

Eönwë stood in the black and white marble floored reception hall of the Grigori house in Richmond. He was tired, dusty and longing for a shower and a long cold drink, not necessarily in that order. It was not every day that one disembarked from a rattletrap that masqueraded as an aircraft after having one's teeth rattled and found a long low luxury sedan with blacked out windows waiting for one on the tarmac. How in hell the Grigori had even managed to get into RAF Brize Norton was a miracle all in itself.

Even more amazing was the fact that General Sheldon didn't even question the car's appearance. He merely raised one bushy grey eyebrow and shooed Eönwë in its direction.

"Off you go Gary, never look a gift horse in the mouth." He said cheerfully before heading for the arrivals building where his own driver would be waiting with the staff car. "They'll probably get you home faster anyway."

Which would have been lovely except that home was not where the Grigori driver took him. He was about to call Kim from the car to let her know where he was going and had been intending to get her to tell either Maedhros or Maglor to bring Draugluin to Richmond since apparently this hijacking was due to the Grigori scientists apparently having found something very important about their werewolf guest. He was waiting for someone to answer the phone and was wondering where everyone was when the window between the driver and the back of the car rolled down.

"My apologies for the interruption my Lord, but a car has already been sent for Lord Draugluin. He and Lord Maedhros are already at the house along with Lord Maglor who is known to us from before. They are waiting for you. I am also to give you apologies for the summons, but the findings from the tests are vitally important to the current struggle." The driver's voice was polite but apologetic. "There is hot coffee in the console beside you with sugar and milk in the portable fridge in the cupboard next to it."

Eönwë switched his mobile phone off, located the coffee and poured himself a cup. He left the milk out but sugared it liberally, it had been a tiring twenty four hours accompanying the General on a tour of the troops, made complicated by the situation in Helmand province with the threat of kidnap and car bombs. Security had been very tight and because of that Eönwë had felt restricted and slightly impatient, part of him would have much preferred to join the lads on the front line; this military diplomacy business was just on the surface, the _real_ business was being done by the people on the ground.

Eönwë knew just how close General Sheldon was to retiring, in fact he was a little past that time and he also knew that he was in direct line for promotion, although as a Major-General he wouldn't necessarily be considered to have the seniority to take over as General Officer Commanding a Division. The promotion board for senior officers was almost due to sit and their recommendations would go to the Joint Chiefs of Staff for ultimate consideration. General Sheldon had been kept in place as GOC 4th Division even though he had been officially due for retirement three years previously. He had been promoted from Lieutenant General to full General just after the time rift and War of Wrath debacle simply because there was no one else suitable for the position, or at least no one that the Prime Minister and Minister for Defence had felt confident in appointing to the post.

General Sheldon had made no secret of the fact that he believed that Eönwë was the most natural successor and so they were all marking time until he reached the rank where he could effectively take over from Sheldon.

The little Afghanistan trip was one of those little outings that was meant to groom Eönwë for this role, even though both he and the General knew that there wasn't much that Eönwë _didn't_ know about commanding an army, be it ancient or modern. As much as it irked him a little, the Herald did his bit and acted his part for the sake of appearances. He accompanied the General who watched with great amusement as this dynamic beautiful creature completely enslaved every single soldier he met no matter what the rank and no matter how battle-hardened. Most of them would have willingly wandered into the local Taliban encampment naked with a knife to attack the denizens if Eönwë had asked them to.

Eönwë sipped the hot coffee and turned his thoughts to what might be so important about the information the Grigori scientists had discovered. It was plain from talking to Draugluin that he firmly believed that the present day Lycans were different. Hopefully whatever differences there were would hold the clue to defeating them. Without the Lycans, Herumor's troops would be greatly decimated.

These thoughts automatically took him to the fact of there being orcs in Moria once again. He and Seth had managed to ascertain from Herumor's servant that the creatures they had done battle with in the Chamber of the Crossroads had most certainly not been there since the latter Ages Middle-earth, although orcs and goblins had certainly fled in that direction after the War of the Ring. The servant himself was of an orc-kind that none of them had actually seen before. He was a kind of cross between orc, goblin and Neanderthal man and unless at least a few of each kind had survived the Ice Age and cross-mated, there was no way that a hybrid of those three could have come about naturally. Everything led to some kind of cloning programme in Seth's and Radagast's opinion and Eönwë was inclined to agree with them, as were Thranduil and the other three Elves.

The burning question about that was how long had Herumor been operating his orc-cloning business in Moria? They needed to find out where it was and how many had been produced this way. If it had been years or even decades, where _were_ they all? Why had they not overrun Moria? It certainly would have been a simple thing for them to wipe Moria clean of the presence of the Naugrim and there would be more evidence of them. Everything pointed to the orcs having been moved elsewhere after completion of the cloning process, if that's how their numbers were increasing. And the _actual _operation would need equipment both scientific and medical. This meant power; there was a powerhouse in use somewhere in the watery depths of the Waterworks and he had seen for himself just how vast and expansive that area was.

Over millennia, the massive amounts of water which had been pumped along aqueducts and into various pump houses had built up due to the pump houses being overgrown and unused. The pressure of the water had eventually found weak spots in the now un-maintained stonework and burst over the aqueduct walls. It flooded the various plazas and walkways that had originally been the base of the Waterworks. The waters of the large natural underground lakes has joined with that deluge and now the whole place, apart from the tall buildings and terraced walkways were now underwater which was very deep in some places and not so deep in others.

Creatures which had not seen the light of the outside world had flourished there and the whole place was a death trap.

"It needs pumping out completely." Orgrim had said disappointedly when they reported back to the encampment in the Twenty-first Hall. "We do not have the equipment to undertake such a huge task."

Seth and Eönwë had exchanged smiles. Obviously Orgrim had no idea just how advanced such techniques had become and Seth had already spoken to Vevey about equipment and people qualified to to undertake such a monumental task.

With a bit of luck they would find out whether Herumor's people _had_ set up shop there and were using some of the facilities to produce power for an orc-cloning operation. If they could put a stop to that and find some way of neutralising the modern Lycans they stood a chance of forcing Herumor to expose himself and face them directly.

This then, was the current cunning plan.

The caffeine from the hot, sweet black coffee filtered through Eönwë. Draugluin had been right about the Haoma, as much as Eönwë had not wanted to admit it. After the first head rush and sudden burst of adrenalin both of which left him dizzy, it had settled down and gradually the strength to withstand the bright light of his Maia spirit had returned to his physical body. A few more regular doses and Eönwë would be back up to full strength. Now all he had to hope was that Herumor did not make a major move of any kind before that happened.

The car slid to a smooth halt in the driveway in front of what looked like a large private home. There was no indication outside of whatever went on outside. The electronic gates had already closed and if he had not been a Maia at the peak of his energy he would have felt trapped. Instead he shoved his beret into his combat trouser pockets and went up the steps to the large front door. He was about to ring the doorbell when the door suddenly opened and a rather grim-faced Maedhros stood there.

Eönwë had a horrible feeling that whatever had happened was not good news.

He didn't know even _half _of it.

ooOoo

**Earlier that day...**

Almare Matthews was one very pissed off little girl. She was cross with Mummy for smacking her and even more cross that she had been punished in front of other people and Daddy had done nothing to rescue her. Allie had read about knights in one of the Fairytale books that had been bought for her by Uncle Knowles but had been put on the bookshelf because Mummy thought it was too difficult for her to understand right now. Allie had been very confused at this. Didn't Mummy realise that she could read the words? Maybe Daddy hadn't told her. He was very good at not telling Mummy things she needed to know.

Anyway, Daddy was meant to be a knight and save her and he didn't. And then he went away for the night and didn't come back to tuck her in or read her a story. Naughty, _bad_ Daddy.

She huffed a sigh and swung her legs to and fro off the side of her bed where she was sitting. The hated pink tee shirt with an cute baby elephant on the front and the pink cardigan were lying across the back of the chair. Mummy had made her wear them today at nursery school and she had capitulated, mainly because Mummy's face said she meant business and Daddy wasn't here to do anything about it, but the moment she had come in from nursery school for her lunch, she had gone upstairs and taken the offending clothing off. Now she was sitting still and deciding what to do with them.

The back of the cupboard was no good, Mummy would find them there. The rubbish bin in the kitchen was no good either, Uncle Restor would find them in there when he put the kitchen rubbish in. Uncle Hal would see her if she put them in the big outside rubbish with the wheels and would want to know why she was putting them in there.

No...they had to be taken _far_ away, to somewhere that _nobody_ would think to look for them. A cartoon light bulb went off in her head...there was a big thing that Mummy called a 'skip' just down the road. They passed it every day on their way to the nursery, although why Mummy called it a skip was a mystery to her, she'd watched it very closely and it didn't skip at all. It just stood there and people threw things they didn't want into it. Well she didn't want her pink tee shirt with the elephant _or _the cardigan.

It would serve her purpose well. If everyone threw threw rubbish in the skip then the horrible pink things would be covered very quickly by other stuff and Mummy would _never_ know. All she had to do was get out of the house and the front gate and walk a little way down the road to where the big yellow skip was parked. She would be back before anyone knew she was gone.

It never occurred to her that she would have to find some excuse for the clothing being missing.

She slid off the bed and toddled downstairs. Her bright red jacket was hanging on the hall-stand and her Wellington boots were sitting neatly together under it. She took off the bunny slippers she had on and with a great deal of huffing and puffing, managed to get her feet into the wellies. She stood up experimentally and couldn't work out at first why her feet felt wrong, but then she realised that they were on the wrong feet. She huffed another little sigh and repeated the operation of taking them off and putting them back on...the right way this time.

Finally she was dressed to her satisfaction. Allie couldn't reach the front door handle properly, but she knew that the big glass doors which slid open and shut were usually left slightly open. All she had to do was slip through them and she was in the garden. She toddled down to the gate with the tee shirt and cardigan stuffed under her jacket and struggled with the metal handle that opened it. It was heavy and stiff and it took a while before she could work the mechanism, but finally she was free.

Across the road, in the Southern Electricity van, an American Secret Service operative watched curiously as the cute blonde haired little moppet who was the Brigadier's daughter popped her head out of the now open gate and was followed by her sturdy little body dressed in a bright scarlet jacket, white sneakers and blue jeans.

"What in the world?" He said, totally bemused. The kid was _never_ usually out by herself. She was always accompanied by her mother and that blond guy who obviously guarded them.

Catherine Dalton of the CIA looked up from where she was perusing the latest intelligence from Washington DC. "What is it?"

"That kid...the Brigadier's daughter." He chortled, not bothering to turn to look at Catherine. "She's making a break for it."

Catherine leaned over and watched the monitor. Sure enough, there was Allie Matthews toddling cautiously down the road looking around her inquisitively. The CIA operative wasn't sure where she got the sudden strong misgivings about this, but she did.

"This is not good." She muttered and slipped her own jacket on. She felt for the comforting weight of her gun.

"Where the hell are you going?" Her partner protested. "She'll be fine, that blond guy will come shooting out after her in a minute."

She opened the van's rear doors, jumped out and stuck her head back in. "Well, if he does, you can tell him where we went can't you?"

Her partner stared at her. "And blow our cover?"

"What cover?" She mocked. "Do you seriously think that the Brigadier and his household don't know we're here? I can tell you that they do. Watch the monitors. If they come out of the house tell them I went after her."

"Whatever." Her partner said and turned back to the monitor. He took a bite of his chicken sandwich and swilled it down with a swig of Coke. The van's doors clicked shut.

Catherine almost lost Allie as she weaved around the cars parked in the road.

_Where is she going?_ The woman wondered to herself; the little girl's legs were moving with such purpose. It was only when she stopped and stared around her that the Agent realised that wherever the child was going, she was now not sure of her direction. Catherine picked up her pace and had almost reached the little girl when a dark figure, which could have been male or female, appeared from behind one of the cars and scooped her up.

"NO!" Catherine yelled at the top of her voice, she sped towards them, terror for the child lending speed to her feet. "POLICE! Put the kid down and put your hands on your head or I _will_ shoot."

She didn't see the other darkly dressed figure come up behind her. All she felt was a sickening blow on the back of her head and then she knew no more.

She wasn't even aware that she had also been picked up and slung into the back of a parked dark blue van which then careered away down the road carrying Allie and Catherine far away from the Brigadier's house and relative safety.

ooOoo

**In a vehicle on the road to an unknown destination...**

The first thing Catherine was aware of was a hideous pain in her head; the second thing was a gentle, but insistent, patting on her cheeks. She ventured to open her eyes and her vision swam and blurred. She could only vaguely make out a small face leaning quite closely towards her and it took more than a few seconds to focus properly.

"Where am I?" She whispered hoarsely.

"The bad man picked me up and put me in the car." Allie didn't sound afraid at all, strangely enough. "They banged your head and you went to sleep, then they put you in the car and then they drove away. I've been trying for hours and _hours _to wake you up."

Catherine sat up. Her head spun and she felt as groggy as hell. From the way she was feeling they had to have hit her hard enough to cause a mild concussion, but she knew that she had to get her act together and get herself and this kid out of whatever situation they were in.

_Think Catherine, think!_ Her thoughts were revolving around and around and refused to be pinned down.

"Are you called Catherine?" Allie suddenly asked conversationally.

"_What?"_ Catherine was utterly startled. Had she spoken aloud?

She didn't answer Allie, but staggered to her feet instead as best she could in the moving vehicle and rattled the back doors, but she knew inside that it was futile. They were firmly locked. They had obviously taken her gun so she couldn't shoot the lock off and even if she _could_ get the doors open there was no way she and the child wouldn't be severely hurt if they jumped out anyway. Not at the speed this van was moving.

She came back to where the child was serenely seated on a pile of sacking and crouched down in front of her.

"Are you all right honey? Did they hurt you?"

Allie smiled at her. "No. I am okay, but they are _very _bad men. They won't hurt us though."

Catherine sat back on her heels in astonishment; she had never met such a self-possessed child in her entire life. Most kids would be in hysterics right about now. What _was_ she? Two? Three years old?

Allie held her little hand up and counted off three fingers. "I am three." She said proudly. "I can count all the way up to twenty."

Catherine let out a cross between a laugh and a sob. "That's _wonderfu_l sweetheart. Did the bad men say anything when they put us in the van?"

"No, but I can hear them thinking right now." Allie frowned in concentration for a moment. "One of the bad men is thinking about making the car move and the other bad man is thinking..." Catherine saw her swallow convulsively.

"What's he thinking Allie?" Catherine gently persisted. Dear god in heaven, could this child _actually_ read minds? What in hell's name was she? Not a normal little girl that was for sure.

Allie shuddered slightly. "Bad things...he is_ very _hungry, his tummy is rumbling and the monster inside wants to feed."

_Oh god._ Catherine slumped down against the side of the van in despar. The monster inside, what in hell's name did that mean?

"He has a wolf inside him." Allie explained patiently, as though Catherine was the toddler and she the adult.

_Oh crap._ Catherine felt the blood drain out of her.

"Crap is a naughty word." Allie said with a hint of severity in her little voice that made Catherine want to laugh hysterically. "My Mummy and Daddy said I mustn't say it. Alastair in my school says it all the time and the teacher makes him sit on the naughty step."

"You can read thoughts?" Catherine asked cautiously.

Allie frowned again. "I can see things that people think. Daddy can hide his thoughts, so can Uncle Restor, Uncle Erin and the others. Mummy can't, Daddy says she is an 'open book', but she just looks like Mummy to me, not like a book with pages at all. I can't see what Uncle Maksim thinks, but that's because the demon inside him won't let anyone in."

The vehicle slowed down, then stopped and Catherine's heart nearly came to a stop with it. Was this the moment that the hungry monster was going to feed? And were they on the dinner menu?

"The hungry man's gone to hunt for food. The other man won't let him hurt us, he says we are...val...vallible." She stumbled over the unfamiliar word.

"Valuable?" Catherine asked.

Allie nodded. "Vall...vallible 'cos of who my Daddy is. I am A Feather In Their Cap."

"What?" Catherine stared at her. A feather in their cap? What normal child of three would come out with something like that? The way the child said it made it sound as though it was capital letters. "Have they both gone to feed?"

She shuddered and decided that she didn't want to know what they fed on, hopefully it was fish and chips or something.

Allie shook her head. "No, the bad man who isn't hungry is watching the van. The other bad man has gone to hunt."

"We _have_ to get out of here Allie." Catherine managed to sound strong and determined even though she certainly didn't feel that way.

"The monster isn't hungry any more and he's back." Allie stated calmly and Catherine heard the front passenger door slam shut.

"Do you know...can you hear...?" Catherine groaned. "This is _ridiculous._..have they said where they are taking us?"

She felt utterly stupid. Here she was, the hotshot CIA agent, one of their best and she was as blind as a bat and helpless as a kitten. And she was relying on an angelic looking three year old for information.

Allie closed her eyes and to Catherine's horror and astonishment a silver light appeared behind the child's eyelids. She was rooted to the spot with shock as this extraordinary little girl sat calmly concentrating on what..._whatever_ it was she was hearing or seeing. Catherine was just beyond any kind of logical thought processes or rational explanations at this point.

Allie finally opened her eyes. "South, near the seaside. There are others there waiting for us."

Catherine touched Allie's arm gently. "What others honey?"

The little girl shrugged. "Other children I think and maybe some grown ups like you. It's a place where they take people before they put them on a boat."

"Do you know where they're going to take us?" Catherine whispered, her lips felt numb and her mouth was dry.

Allie shook her head. "No, the bad men are just thinking about getting to the house... before the tide or something. There are others who will take us somewhere else. I can't see their thoughts yet, we are too far away." She stared at Catherine who was desperately thinking about whether she could fight her way out with Allie and escape once the van came to a halt. The American Secret Service Agent rummaged around the van looking for something...anything...that would make a good weapon.

"We can't 'scape yet." Allie said calmly. "There will be too many of them and they will kill you before you can run far away. They are very fast and strong like the Big Bad Wolf and we are slow and slow like the piggies."

Catherine let out a breath that she didn't even know she was holding in, if they hadn't been in desperate straits she would have found the time to marvel at the command of language this kid had at the tender age of three years. "Big Bad Wolf? You mean like the children's story the Three Little Pigs?"

Allie stared compassionately at her, as though she felt sorry for this woman who was actually as stupid as she realised she must be sounding.

"Not like the story _really_. They don't want to eat us, they want to make us just like them."

Oh god that did _not_ sound good. Catherine really didn't want to ask another question, but she knew she had to.

"Like _them_? What _are_ they like Allie?"

The child sighed. "They are the Big Bad Wolves of course, with big teeth, red eyes and claws, but they are _also _human like us. Daddy calls them something else, a name with wolves in it."

Catherine stared at the child in disbelief. "Werewolves?"

Allie gave her an enchanting smile. "Yes, _that's _what Daddy calls them. Werewolves."

The van slowed down and bumped down a track of some kind. They had obviously reached their destination.

ooOoo

**Back at the Grigori house in Richmond**

"How?" Eönwë rapped out peremptorily.

He was still reeling from the fact that his daughter was in the hands of his mortal enemy, or at least would be very soon. He felt sick inside and he wanted to rush off in all directions to find her. He wanted to get hold of the people who had dared lay their hands on his child and rip them apart, but the rational Maia part of him knew that none of those things would help his baby at that moment. The only comfort he had was that she wasn't alone and terrified. The CIA agent Catherine Dalton had also been taken along with her. A resident of the road, an elderly lady who Allie and Kim often stopped and talked to over the garden gate on their way to nursery school, had been coming back from shopping and seen the whole thing from a distance. She had recognised Allie straight away and called the police who had immediately gone to Eönwë's house.

Catherine's partner, still sitting in the van and waiting for her to come back, got the wind up when he saw the police arrive and knock on the front door of the Brigadier's house. He watched one of them leave in the squad car, but the other officer stayed at the house. Of course, now he was in a quandary. Did he just walk up to the door and speak to the police and show them his ID, thereby utterly blowing the cover Catherine had made fun of earlier? Catherine was nowhere in sight and neither was the little girl. The police weren't there for nothing. Finally he emerged from the van, crossed the road and bumped straight into a distraught looking Haldir.

Two minutes of conversation later he was sitting in the Brigadier's living room being grilled by the tall beautiful creatures who lived there, only now they had a fell and deadly light in their eyes. The Brigadier's wife, of course, was utterly distraught. Celebrian and Nerdanel were doing their best to comfort her and keep her calm.

Within an hour a police search for Catherine and the child was under way. Draugluin, Maedhros and Maglor had been informed and were waiting at the Grigori house in Richmond for Eönwë to arrive from the airport.

Draugluin's eyes were filled with sympathy. He placed a comforting hand on the Herald's arm. "We will find her my brother, I promise this. The good thing is that we have this cretin currently in captivity to question. I will soon find out what, if anything, he knows."

"Of course we are assuming that it is the Lycans who have taken her." The Grigori Joshua spoke quietly. He turned to Eönwë who was standing there almost numb with shock. "My Lord, is it possible that you can make contact with your daughter? Our abilities as earthbound Ainur are limited, but you are not like us."

"I have tried a few times, but something is blocking me. All I know for sure is that she is alive and apparently unharmed." Eönwë sat down and buried his head in his hands. All he could think of was that Allie had been in tears when he left for Afghanistan and he hadn't seen her for almost two days. And Kim...Kim would be utterly distraught. He needed to go to her, but he also needed to do something about looking for their daughter.

Something of his dilemma must have shown in his eyes because Draugluin gently grasped his shoulders and stared into his eyes.

"Eönwë, _listen_ to me. I know that you are panicking right now and that is natural, she is your daughter, but we need to know if you can contact her..._any_ little piece of information will do. If they are Lycans then I can interrogate the one that the Grigori are holding here, he may know where they would take her. He will not withhold anything from me. _You _must now gather your strength and your thoughts and connect to the link with your daughter. Your distress is the only thing blocking any link between you, but it is the link between you and her as Maiar, not the link between you and her as father and child, that you need to access."

Eönwë stared unseeingly into Draugluin's eyes for a few moments, but eventually the clear blue gaze of the other Maia managed to connect properly with him. Eönwë shook his head as if to clear his mind of the panic, fear and fury that had him in its hold. He stood stock still and his eyes silvered over. Everyone, including the Grigori, went silent as Eönwë began to feel his way along the fine mental silver thread that linked him with other Maiar. It was not something he had ever done with Allie. He could always connect with her, but it was a different connection, a personal intimate connection such as he also had with Kim.

A full twenty minutes he stood there and there was a breathless silence in the room as he did so. Finally he received an answer, a weak little answer since Allie had not been communicated with in this way in her life yet and she had no idea what was happening.

_Daddy?_

Eönwë nearly collapsed with relief. _Yes sweetheart, it's Daddy. Are you hurt baby?_

The reply was slightly hesitant. _No, but the bad men hurt Catherine, she went to sleep again. I told her not to fight them. She has blood on her._

Eönwë's heart sank. He hated to ask his baby to do this but he needed to know. _Sweetheart, is Catherine still breathing?_ Are you near her?

There was a moment's silence and then the reply came, a little fainter this time. S_he is breathing in and out Daddy, but I can't wake her, there is a lot of blood._

Eönwë's heart bled for his tiny daughter, being so grown up. _Can you tell us who took you Allie?_

This time there was a distinct feeling of fear coming through the link. _Big bad wolves Daddy, with big teeth and claws, they gave the other children some medicine but they didn't give it to me yet or Catherine 'cos she is asleep. There were other grown-ups but they took them away to 'nother place. I heard them crying._

Eönwë could hardly bring himself to probe again, but her life depended on it. _Do you have any idea where you are sweetheart? Anything you remember as they brought you in will do._

_Seaside. Big house near the sea and there is a boat. They're coming Daddy..._

To Eönwë's horror the link was then severed. He searched desperately for her life signs and felt relief when he managed to detect that she was at least still alive, but unconscious. He felt a cold fury, such as he had never felt before take him over.

"She is in a house near the sea. She spoke of a boat. It is the werewolves who have taken her. They must have been watching the house all this time but could not get through the wards placed on it. The American woman from the CIA is with her, but is injured apparently in an escape attempt. She does not sound in a good way. Allie says she is breathing but there is a lot of blood."

"Right you are." Draugluin spun around and addressed the Grigori. "Take me to the other Lycan."

He and Joshua left, leaving Eönwë, Maedhros and Maglor alone in the reception area of the house. Nobody spoke, they were all still reeling from the shock of the kidnap and their minds were going around in circles. Eventually Maglor broke the silence.

"Lord Eönwë, when we tracked the Lycans who attacked the village in Devon, we ended up at a large, very ramshackle house down on the south coast. If you remember, we went into the house and found evidence that people were kept there in the cellar, but we had to leave quickly because the werewolves came back."

Maedhros's eyes gleamed. "Yes. There was a boat, off the shore and a smaller boat drawn up on the sand. I saw this as we left through the undergrowth at the back of the house."

Draugluin came back into the room but this time he had the rather dazed looking werewolf in tow. "I know where they took her." He said quietly. "William here will take us there, but he says that we must reach there before dusk which is not far off now. It is then that the captives will be taken to the boat which stands offshore and which will take them over to France, somewhere just off the coast of Normandy. From there they could take her to one of many places in Europe so we must stop them either before they put her on the boat or failing that, as they land on the coast of France."

He held his hand up to the werewolf, now in human form, who flinched, there was great fear in his eyes, firstly for the awful creature who had faced him down in the cell and now for the terrible fell creatures of the light who stood looking sternly at him.

"I will go and start the car up." Maedhros started towards the door but was stopped by Joshua.

"I can do much better than that." He said. "I have called for the helicopters and back up from the Kerubim at the London office, they are on their way as we speak. The helicopter is our only hope either for getting to the coast before nightfall or alternately stop them before the boat lands, the only problem with that is that they may kill the hostages if they hear us come on them in mid-ocean. However we can land on the coast long before they make landfall and we can be waiting for them."

The distant clattering sound of a helicopter could be heard even as Joshua spoke. It grew nearer and nearer and Eönwë realised that it was actually going to land on the roof of the house.

Joshua grinned at the look on his face. "The roof is specially reinforced to take the weight of the helicopter, two will land to accommodate all of us, but there will be others in the air waiting for us to board."

Moments later they were sitting in a helicopter watching the ground spiral away from them. William the werewolf sat scrunched in-between Draugluin and Maedhros, whose expression in his glittering green eyes did not augur well for the Lycan's future even though he personally had not been responsible for the kidnap of the child.

Eönwë was in the front of the helicopter talking to Kim on the phone. He tried to reassure her as best he could but she was barely coherent.

"Kim, please beloved, don't cry so. I _will _bring her back safely. I swear it."

Even as he spoke he realised the irony behind being the Oathkeeper of Iluvatar in this instance, nor did he miss the astonished glance of the helicopter pilot as a book and a quill pen appeared as if by magic in the Herald's hands in which he automatically recorded the oath he had just made to his wife.

ooOoo


	59. With A Little Help from a Friend

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby.**

**Author Note: **One of the reviewers emailed me and asked a very salient question as to why Maiar from Valinor weren't sent to help Allie as they were when she was attacked inside the house. So I thought I probably should address this.

The fact is that the Maiar from Valinor are limited as to what they can do or where they can go in Middle-earth. They are permitted to appear in extreme circumstances within the boundaries of Eonwe's home and because there are wards and guardians set on the house and garden anyone coming within those boundaries is also challenged by the guardians. However, the whole point of Allie's kidnap is to show that _outside _those boundaries she and her mother and everyone in the household are still very vulnerable to attack.

Allie was kidnapped o_utside _the protective boundaries, not within them. If she hadn't been so intent on ridding herself of the hated pink clothes, she would never have attempted to leave the protection of the house. The hard part for her and those around her is the fact that the full grown Maia spirit is constantly subject to the restrictions of a 3 year old physical form. It can manifest itself in times of great need but it is still restricted and in order to grow properly both physically and mentally Allie's Maia side has to stay quiescent while her body grows up. Unlike Eönwë and the other full Maiar Allie cannot disincarnate, just like Luthien couldn't. The fact is that nobody, apart from perhaps Eru, knows what Allie's abilities truly are and many will not manifest themselves until she's reached human adult stage in her life.

**NB:** There is a bit of a language alert in this chapter.

" Revenge is a dish which is best tasted cold. "

_**- An Old Klingon proverb**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 59 – With A Little Help from a Friend**

**On the road to an enemy stronghold in Central France...**

Neither Catherine Dalton nor Allie Matthews were conscious when they were airlifted from a freighter mid-English Channel an hour after the ship had sailed from it's berth just offshore to the very southern beaches of England. The leader of the Lycans had given Allie something to make her sleep, but it had been impressed upon him that this was very very important cargo indeed and that neither the child nor her mother were to be harmed in any way.

This, of course, was probably their first mistake that day since the lucky haul in Hampshire had landed the Maia's precious child and the woman with her. On the surface of course, Catherine and Kim were enough alike in colouring that it was understandable that one could be mistaken for the other, but it was a mistake that would cost them dearly. The Herald's wife was known to Herumor as a fairly useless female only important because of the great love her husband held for her. She had no powers, she was no Maia; she was not even an Elf. She was just a human and while the child was valuable in so many ways, an uncorrupted Maia soul for Herumor to play with and turn to his own advantage, the mother was only valuable insomuch as her captivity and ultimate turning would course the Maia even more pain. Herumor's cadaverous face had been wreathed in smiles ever since the news had reached him. It was like having all his birthdays fall on the same day.

_Let us see how brave our Herald of Manwe is when he faces his own child on the battlefield. _He chortled to himself.

The mother was just a little frosting on the cake, a bargaining chip or perhaps something to torture that odious creature of light with.

It never occurred to him for one minute that the woman who was with Allie was not just _not_ her mother, but was also a highly trained CIA operative and as such should have been treated with extreme caution under _any _circumstances.

Catherine and Allie had also had a helicopter ride, although they didn't know anything about it and just about the time that Eönwë, his people and the Grigori landed on the rocky, windswept Normandy coastline to wait for the small boats that were bringing the Lycans' prisoners ashore, his daughter and her companion were being transferred to another van and were en route to the small stronghold Herumor had established in the central region of France. There they would be held until Herumor himself arrived to oversee the operation.

ooOoo

**An hour later just before dawn...**

Eönwë slumped down against a rock. Not even in the darkest days of the War of Wrath had he felt such despair; it welled up inside him and threatened to engulf him completely. Allie and Catherine Dalton had not been amongst the very grateful adults and confused, but very sick children they had rescued from the werewolves. The sick children would be airlifted back to Richmond where the Grigori scientists and doctors would try to offset the medication that had been given them to turn them into Lycans. The adults who had been turned the normal way were tranquillised and would also be taken back to Richmond. Not too far from where a despairing Eönwë had collapsed dark forms lay on the beach; the bodies of the Lycans who had been dispatched earlier during the brief sortie.

None of that meant anything to the grieving Herald. All he could see was his daughter's bright little face. He knew fine well that Herumor would try to corrupt her and she was a just a child. How could she fight against him? And how was he to tell Kim that he had failed to keep their child safe?

It was from one of the Lycans, attempting to be defiant to the last until Draugluin got hold of him, that they had learned that a child and a blonde-haired woman had been airlifted from the freighter and were now being taken to some unknown place by an unknown means of transport. And of course this was the source of Eönwë's despair... he had no idea where she was and she could not even connect to him because they were keeping her sedated.

Maedhros and Maglor stood a little aside from the distraught Herald, they knew things did not look good for the little girl who they all loved dearly and if Herumor managed to corrupt her then she would be used as a soldier against her own father. Maedhros made a vow to himself that if that dreadful moment came, he would put the child out of her misery himself. No doubt Eönwë would never forgive him, but he could not see the Herald destroying his own child. Far rather a Kinslayer do the mercy-killing than the child's own father. After all, as a Kinslayer and a Feanorian wasn't he already awash with the blood of innocents? What was a little more blood to him?

He felt the Herald's keen eyes on him and looked up to find that Eönwë had straightened up and a look of grim determination had replaced the despair which now only lurked at the back of his dark blue eyes. The book and quill pen had again appeared in his hands as he sorrowfully acknowledged Maedhros's oath.

"My Lord..." Maedhros stammered slightly. Of course, he had forgotten that it was Eönwë's task to record all oaths spoken. "I beg your forgiveness." He dropped his head and allowed the tears which had been building up for hours now to fall. A gentle hand was laid on his bowed head.

"There is no need for forgiveness child of Feanor." Eönwë's voice was thick with his own tears. "I know that this vow was made from your heart and was spoken from a genuine desire to save me from the pain that may still await me. If that terrible time should come and there is no other way, I may well hold you to it."

Maedhros raised his head and his green eyes glittered both with tears and determination. "And in that, Lord, you will _not_ find me wanting."

Eönwë managed a weary smile. "Yet that time is not yet nigh and my daughter's path still lies before her. Even the Valar do not know what she is truly capable of, only Eru may know and perhaps the Lord of Mandos. In the meantime I shall not give up. Where there is still life, there is hope. It seems to me that we still have people to interrogate. They will have taken Allie and Catherine to some stronghold reasonably near at hand." The dark blue eyes turned steely grey. "I believe our friends over there know where that may be."

He turned to where the living Lycans stood shivering under the watchful eyes of creatures that they had never seen the like of in their entire lives. The Grigori Kerubim stood unmoving, hovering like vultures above their prey. William, the werewolf they had brought with them was sitting on the sand, but when he saw the Herald stand up, he also stood and made as if to go over and speak with him.

Instantly, one of the Kerubim warriors' heads snapped around as fast as a striking serpent and cold silver eyes speared him to the spot. He let out a sob of very real fear and sat back down on the sand with a bump.

Eönwë squeezed Maedhros on his shoulder and headed towards where Joshua stood awaiting orders. By the time the Herald reached him, Joshua, his warriors and the Lycans clearly saw what made Eönwë, Herald of Lord Manwe Sulimo the mightiest in arms in all Arda. Eönwë had finally channelled his inner Grigori and the outward change in him made even the Kerubim move backwards respectfully.

As for Draugluin, he just smiled to himself. As much as he was angered that little Allie had been taken, for him the thrill of the hunt was just about to start, and not before time. He had a score to settle with that black-hearted sonofabitch excuse for a corpse on his _own_ account.

ooOoo

William the werewolf proved to be suffering from a severe case of verbal diarrhoea once the interrogation commenced. Much to his fellow Lycans' disgust he spilled the beans about everything he knew which wasn't a great deal except for one _very _valuable piece of information; William had been taken to what he had thought was a large farmhouse in central France soon after turning. The farmhouse had proved to be an old disused vineyard which had extensive underground passages and rooms that had been originally used to store the wine and brandy. These had been converted for use as a sort of 'training and assessment area' for the Scientists who monitored the new-turned before they declared them fit to release into an unsuspecting human society.

The other, much more reticent, Lycans sneered and muttered about revenge as William duly spilled his guts to the tall shining warriors, although inside they knew that the one called the Herald might not be disposed to deal with them gently if he did not hear what he wanted to hear, nor would the two creatures with pointed ears. They just looked fell and very dangerous. The Lycans' leader, now promoted on the death of his immediate superior curled his lip at William in disgust.

"Lord Herumor will use your entrails as decoration for his next reception." He spat at him. "Your blood will fill our bellies and your body will be as our meat..."

He would have carried on in the same vein had it not been for Draugluin suddenly morphing into a tall silver-haired werewolf who looked a darn sight scarier than any of the rest of them on a good day in front of them. The erstwhile leader went as pale as death and shrank away from the looming figure.

"Do you want to see what a _real _werewolf looks like? There are scarier things than you in this world...and I am one of them." Draugluin almost purred at him. His eyes were flashing green and gold fire and he casually unsheathed long sharp claws the like of which the common or garden modern werewolves had never seen before and they all blanched at the sight. He gently chucked the now quivering Lycan leader playfully under the chin with one sharp claw and drew a bead of blood from the flesh. "You are a _pathetic_ attempt at a werewolf. Even the most junior werewolf in my clan was more convincing than you are. Now be silent. One more word from you and I will allow these delightful Kerubim to take you away and spank you _very_ hard."

The leader fell silent. This horrific looking, yet strangely beautiful creature, appeared to be joking, but there was a hardness beneath the humour that belied that fact and the idea of being handed over for the tall shining silent serpent-like creatures was enough to make him lose whatever was left in his bowels.

However William was not going to be deterred from having _his_ say, much to the amusement of all including Draugluin who had now morphed back into human form.

"Entrails is it?" William was not a tall person, he was actually quite short, but compactly built in his human form. He bounced up to the Lycan leader until they were almost nose to nose, or would have been had William been a little taller. "Let me tell _you _about entrails and werewolves. There I was, minding my own fucking business, doing a little bit of this and a little bit of that, earning meself some cash to go to Ibiza and what happens? " The Lycan leader's eyes widened and he took a step back as William thrust his chin out pugnaciously at him and poked him savagely in his chest. "Some furry fucker jumps out of the fucking bushes and fucking bites me...BITES ME... like some fucking little girl having a spat with her girlfriend or a toddler that don't know no better. Next thing I know I've got huge teeth, fangs, claws and fur...FUCKING FUR! I wouldn't have minded if it was _nice_ fur, but it was mangy grey stuff and I lost me fucking winnings because all me clothes ripped off when I changed and some bugger nicked 'em. Then I'm swept off in a bloody boat, which made me seasick I will tell you, and then told I'm part of a fucking evil army that's going to take over the world. I don't _want_ the fucking world changed...I _like_ it the way it is _thank you very much_ for nothing...and if these nice shiny looking buggers here can fix me, I think I want in with _them._ So you can take your entrails and stuff 'em up your arse and I hope you fucking choke on 'em!"

For a moment Maiar, Elves and Grigori stared in open speechless astonishment at the pugnacious little werewolf as he made his extraordinary speech, and then they all gave way to the mirth that was rapidly overtaking them.

William went up to Eönwë . "I'm sorry about your little nipper Mister. I'll do whatever it takes to help get 'er back. They've got no right to go around biting people and turning them into unnatural things...no right at all."

Eönwë could see tears in the little man's eyes and his own stern expression softened somewhat. "I can see that your intentions are good, but you have spilled human blood, something you will be judged on before Eru once your time comes. However your actions will be mitigated by the fact that once you are in wolven form you do not have control over them. In the meantime, we will do what we can to help you adjust and control the changes."

William nodded sadly. "It's more than I deserve. I keep seein' that woman's face every time I close me eyes. But the way I look at it, I can't be totally evil if I keep seein' that and feeling bad about it, can I?"

"No indeed." Eönwë said gently. He turned to the Joshua and other Grigori. "Lord Joaquim from Vevey has kindly lent you all to me for as long as I need you, but what I think we will do is divide our group. A small group of Kerubim will escort our Lycan friends here to the facility in Richmond where your scientists are waiting to do more testing, the rest will accompany me, Lord Draugluin and my Eldar friends here and of course William." He bent down to the small man. "You say you think you know where this vineyard is?"

William nodded enthusiastically. "I do sir...um...my Lord. They stopped the van they had us in on the way and I saw a signpost when they opened the back doors... Le Creusot or something like that. We made a right turn somewhere off that road about ten miles or so further on, then it were a bumpy ride over a track of some sort before we got to the vineyard. Once we get there I'll recognise the place for sure. It was pretty heavily guarded as I remember."

"Good." Eönwë nodded at Joshua who was busy selecting which of the Kerubim would do escort duty. "We will travel by chopper until we get fairly close and then find some vehicles I think rather than take the choppers in too close. They are too easily spotted and heard."

Joshua finished giving his orders and the Kerubim who were going back herded their captives onto the remaining helicopters. "I have also spoken with Lord Sariel, my Lord." He said respectfully to Eönwë. "There will be vehicles waiting for us in Limoges and we have some maps with us. We can also pick up supplies in Limoges. Le Creusot is a little further in a north-easterly direction from Limoges"

Eönwë nodded. "Good. Then let's go hunt werewolves."

There was a feral glint in the Maia's eyes that matched the same expression in the eyes of the rest of the group.

ooOoo

**Back at the the Hampshire home of Gary and Kim Matthews...**

"How is she?" Ereinion stood in the doorway, his face filled with compassion for the slight figure lying on the bed in her darkened bedroom. She was clutching one of Allie's toys to her chest and even from where he stood Ereinion could see her tear-stained cheeks. His heart went out to her in her distress.

Nerdanel stood up and Celebrian took her place sitting on the side of the bed. "She is asleep, finally. Haldir burned some Athelas which lightened the atmosphere a little and Erestor brewed some herbal tea with something in it to calm her down. Has there been any news?"

Ereinion beckoned to her and went out into the passage. Nerdanel quietly closed the door behind her. Kim sighed and frowned deeply in her sleep and Celebrian gently started to sing a lullaby in Sindarin that her father had sung to her as a child and she had sung to her own children. Gradually the frown eased out and Kim fell into a deeper sleep.

Ereinion led Nerdanel down the passageway and down the stairs to Eönwë's study where Maksim was sitting on telephone duty.

"Eönwë called us about fifteen minutes ago. Apparently Allie and the American lady were airlifted from the freighter before it reached the coast of France. They managed to capture the werewolves and release the captives who are on their way back here to England. Eönwë, Draugluin and the others, along with some Grigori warriors are carrying on in search of Allie's whereabouts. General Sheldon knows and has oiled the wheels as best he can for them. All we can do now is wait."

Nerdanel sighed, her eyes were filled with sorrow. "For this to happen is just unthinkable. That poor little one, and Eönwë must be utterly distraught. Haldir does not forgive himself easily. He wishes to join the search."

"I know." Ereinion said gently. "I have spoken with him and convinced him that we need him here. It it not his fault, we are all at fault for not noticing that Allie was so quiet, even Kim blames herself." He hesitated slightly. "There _is_ something else that occurred to me after I finished speaking with Eönwë and that is I wonder if Herumor has mistaken the American woman for Kim? They are not unlike each other and if this is the case then we need Kim to lie low until a rescue has been effected. It could well put the other woman's life in great danger if they realise that she isn't Kim."

"Sweet Eru, the poor woman." Nerdanel shook her head. "Yes indeed, Celebrian and I will explain this to Kim. Celebrian has already spoken to Elrond who will convey the situation to the others. He wanted to leave and help Eönwë in the search, but she convinced him to stay with the task at hand in Moria."

Ereinion nodded. "Indeed, their task is most important. I am pleased she was able to convince him to remain there. I suppose I must now go and speak to Erestor and let him know what's happening."

Nerdanel nodded. "And I will go back and sit with Celebrian and Kim."

"You would think that the Valar would act in _some_ capacity, considering whose child she is." Maksim said quietly.

Ereinion looked at him thoughtfully. "I have no doubt that they are deeply concerned Maksim, but they long since handed over stewardship of Arda Marred, they do not come here unless Eru allows it and who knows...perhaps all of this is happening according to Eru Iluvatar's plan..."

"As opposed to being some huge sick cosmic joke on the Valar's Herald and his wife you mean?" Maksim's tone was filled with mild irony.

"There is that of course..." Ereinion sighed, there were no straight answers to anything in this battle and, as usual, the Valar were about as much use as a chocolate teapot. Some things _never_ changed. As the modern Edain often said, 'same old shit, different day' or age in this case. He went in search of Erestor in the kitchens. People still had to eat. Life went on no matter what the disaster.

ooOoo

**A disused Vineyard somewhere north east of Le Creusot, France...**

Catherine had absolutely no idea where she was at first. She came to consciousness mercifully slowly and as her vision cleared she tried to pull herself into a sitting position, but hissed in pain as it stretched the long deep wound down her side.

"_Shit."_ She said softly to herself and placed her hand against the wound. She had obviously bled profusely and her clothes were stiff with blood. She finally managed to get herself into a half sitting position and cast her gaze around the room.

It seemed to be a sort of cave with a heavy door set into the wall. There were no windows and the air felt slightly cool and a little dank. There was a queer stale smell which she couldn't immediately identify. The only furniture in the room was two beds, on either side of the room with a small bedside table in the middle. On the table was a carafe of water and two glasses. She reached for the carafe and sniffed at the water which seemed clear enough, although there were a few drugs which she knew were tasteless and odourless. Still, beggar's can't be choosers, she thought to herself, she was dehydrated and needed fluid, especially since the massive blood loss. She poured herself a drink of the water and took a tentative sip. It tasted like pure water, so she swallowed the rest immediately. If it was going to kill her she would no doubt know very soon.

A small bundle on the other bed with blonde curls sticking out of the top was obviously Allie Matthews. For a moment Catherine wondered why they had been put in a room together and then she remembered one of the werewolves commenting on the child and her 'mother' and the penny dropped...they thought she was Kim Matthews. It was probably the only reason she was still alive or not turned into one of those damnable creatures already.

This knowledge only served to make her realise that they had to escape somehow, but how she was to achieve this was anyone's guess. She had no weapons, a severe injury and a small child in tow. Finding a way out of this unholy mess was going to test her ingenuity as a Secret Service agent to the utmost. Still, first things first, she needed to stand up. She slid her legs over the side of the bed and then sat gripping the edge of the bed with both hands as her head swam dizzily. The blood loss must have been more severe than she thought. After trying to strengthen her resolve for a few minutes she hazarded standing up again and had to grip onto the bedside table for support as her knees gave way.

The sound of voices outside made her lie back down quickly, an action that stretched the wound again and her eyes filled with tears of pain. The little sliding door on the outside of a small grille set high in the door slid sharply to one side and out of her half closed eyes Catherine could see that someone was looking in on them. She forced herself to lie still and quiet and after a few minutes that felt like hours, the sliding door was shut again.

This time, getting into a sitting position seemed marginally easier or perhaps it was just that she was getting used to the hideous pain and feelings of nausea and dizziness. She held onto the bedside table for grim death and slowly shuffled over to the hump in the other bed. Sure enough, there was the Brigadier's daughter, either asleep or drugged. Her face was dirty and tear-stained and that was enough for Catherine to resolve once again that they _had _to escape. She could _not_ let this child fall into that disgusting creature's hands.

Catherine's eyes had been well and truly opened about Herumor, his true nature and his plans for the world after Maksim had rescued her from that London hotel room. Before she had just thought of him as some particularly ugly and nauseating, but _very _powerful and rich, old man. He had parts of the current US Administration right in his back pocket and the CIA deferred to him. Because of that, she had also deferred to him, even though every single fibre of her being had told her that he was wrong on a level of wrongness so high as to be virtually off the scale. Now she knew just _how_ wrong this creature's presence on this planet was.

"Allie?" She bent over the child anxiously.

At first there was no response, so Catherine gently felt for the pulse near the carotid artery. She was vastly relieved to feel the regular throbbing of the pulse in the child's neck and there was some movement of the eyeballs underneath the closed lids. They obviously didn't want to kill her, she was far to valuable for that, but accidents had happened before when giving drugs to kids.

"Allie...sweetheart?" She tried again and this time was rewarded by the fluttering of thick, soot-dark lashes and a flush of pink colour to Allie's cheeks and finally the child opened her eyes, Catherine had her cupped palm ready to place over Allie's mouth in case she cried out, but she didn't; she simply sat up and looked around her curiously.

"Are we in a cave?" She asked and Catherine noticed with relief that she didn't raise her voice.

Catherine stood up and stared around the small room. "I think so...it's a _sort_ of cave."

Allie wrinkled her pert nose. "What's that funny smell?" She slid off the bed and toddled over to the door.

Catherine caught a whiff of that underlying smell in the room that she had smelled earlier, something that was very familiar but couldn't quite put her finger on.

"I don't know..." She started to say uncertainly.

"It smells like Daddy sometimes when he has wine." Allie squeezed her nostrils with her finger and thumb and pulled a face. "It's horrible. Mummy won't let Daddy kiss her until he cleans his teeth."

_And here was me thinking that the perfect, gorgeous specimen of the Brigadier would always smell like roses and buttercups. _Catherine thought to herself dryly.

"Buttercups don't smell of anything." Allie said matter-of-factly and Catherine flushed to the roots of her hair, she had forgotten that the Brigadier's child could read thoughts. Allie reached out and touched the door. "There's no handle."

"No, there isn't." A wave of dizziness swept over Catherine and she sat back down on the bed. "We need to get out of here, but there's nothing to use as a weapon, no lock to pick...no nothing." A wave of despair came hot on the heels of the dizziness.

Allie came over to the bed and put her small hands on Catherine's knees. "Don't be sad Catherine. Daddy will come for us very soon and I can talk to my special friend to see if he can help."

Catherine stared at her. Special friend? Okay... she'd buy that. Who in the world was the child referring to?

As if in answer Allie pointed upwards. "I talk to him 'fore I go to sleep." She said earnestly. "He's _very_ nice."

_Oh great, the kid obviously talks to God or someone. _Catherine groaned inwardly. She was not a particularly religious person and any hopes of divine intervention into their hopeless looking situation had been squashed way back at that old house on the beach in England.

"He doesn't like to be called God." Allie said. She picked at a scab on her knee. "He likes Eru better and he says that we mustn't despair."

"That's nice Allie." Catherine murmured. She had always been taught that God helped those who helped themselves, but if it gave the kid comfort to think that God was talking to her, who was she to rain on her parade? What in the name of all that's holy, including God or Eru, or whatever he wanted to call himself was she supposed to do locked in a room with no handle, no apparent hinges on the damn door and no weapon? Not even a fucking nail file.

"That's a very naughty word." Allie said with that stern note in her voice again.

"Yeah...I guess it is. Perhaps God...Eru...will make me sit on the naughty step if and when we get out of here for saying it."

Catherine knew her reply was snippy, but she was past the point of anything by now. They would probably get fed at some stage. Perhaps she could overpower the guards...but then what? She went over to the beside table, put the carafe and the glasses on the floor and hefted it. Nice solid workmanship. She could stand behind the door and when it opened, smash the cupboard over the head of the first person to come through it.

"Eru thinks you're very funny." Allie chortled.

"What?" Catherine stared at the child. Here they were, locked in a freaking cave room awaiting heaven only knew what fate and the kid was rambling on about talking to God... er...Eru?

_So Eru, or whatever your name is, how about it? How about sending down a nice lightning bolt to zap all of the nasty people or wolves or whatever they are, outside the door to hell and gone? _Damn and blast, now the kid had_ her_ doing it!

"Someone's coming." Allie said softly. And sure enough, the sound of soft footfalls could be heard outside, footfalls which halted just outside the door.

"Oh _great_. Here we go then, come over here and stand behind me honey." Catherine's stomach took a leap into her throat as Allie obediently came over to her. She gently pushed the little girl behind her and lifted the bedside table determinedly. "This may not be a good plan, but it's all we got."

The heavy door slowly creaked open. Whoever it was stopped in the doorway and seemed to be scanning the room.

_Nice work Cathy. If we're not in the beds we're bound to be behind the damn door. Way to go to let them know our wonderful escape plan._ Catherine groaned to herself.

A face framed in long silky blond hair cautiously peered around the door. Catherine let fly with the bedside table and hoped for the best. To her relief the person slumped senseless to the floor and there was no sign of anyone else being there with him, which was either a very very _good _thing, or very very bad.

She dragged the limp form of the man whose head she'd just smacked in with a bedside table into the room and carefully pulled the door to, but not shut. She hunkered down beside him and searched for weapons or something that she could utilise as a weapon, but he didn't even have pockets in his clothes which seemed rather strange. What sort of self-respecting villain had no pockets in his clothes for God's sake? As she did so, he stirred and sat up groggily, by which time Catherine had jumped to her feet, an action she regretted as she felt a stinging pain in her side followed by a warm wet feeling which told her that the wound was open and bleeding again. She picked up the bedside table again and was about to slam it back down on his head when he swiftly got to his feet and caught her arm with such strength that she dropped the table in surprise. He effortlessly caught it with his other hand and put it back down gently on the floor.

"Now, now then Catherine. Do you _really_ want to hit me again?" His tone was of mild complaint. "Do you always try to batter the people who are trying to rescue you to death?"

"Rescue?" Catherine said faintly. "You're here to rescue us?" Her tone of relief immediately turned to faint suspicion. "How do I know that this isn't a trick of some sort?"

The blond man, who she could now see was actually very handsome with rather electric blue eyes, rolled those eyes heavenwards. "Spoken like a true officer of the United States security services." He drawled. "Yes, I _am_ here to rescue you."

"You sound English." Catherine frowned. "Are you MI5?"

"Dear Lord give me strength." The man muttered under his breath. "No, I am here from an entirely different...er...agency."

"Did my Daddy send you?" Allie came up to him and scrutinised him from under very blonde eyebrows.

The man laughed softly. "Not Daddy, little one, but people who have his and your interests very much at heart."

Catherine huffed a sigh. "Well this is all very nice, but how the hell do you hope to get us out of here all on your own? Where's the rest of your team?" She put her hands on her hips and winced in pain again.

This time the blond man laughed outright. "Team? No team...I _really _don't play well with others. No, I am here all on my own-some, but I do have some tricks up my sleeve and a few advantages, but first we need to fix that wound of yours. You won't get far bleeding like a stuck pig, besides which you'll leave a trail of blood an idiot, never mind a werewolf, could follow."

He bade Catherine sit down on the bed and gently lifted her sodden tee shirt. He winced as he saw the long, deep and painful laceration. "That is rather nasty, it might take longer to sort than I thought it would, still, it has to be done. Just lie back and relax...think of England or something."

"Wonderful, I am in a kidnap and hostage situation and they send me a fucking comedian." She hissed with pain and fought against a black wave of dizziness as his long fingers gently probed the wound. Allie sat on the bed and watched with interest.

"Not in front of the children darling." The blond man quipped nodding towards Allie. "Little pitchers have big ears."

"Yeah, yeah." Catherine ground out as a wave of stinging heat enveloped her side. "Oh my GOD, what _are_ you doing? Are you trying to kill me?"

"No." He said patiently, keeping his hand over the wound. "I am trying to heal you, if you would just sit still for a moment."

Gradually the stinging heat ebbed to a dull throbbing sensation and then finally there was no pain at all. Catherine stared in surprise, this strange person had no medical instruments, just his hands. "What did you just do?"

"I've sealed the wound and if nothing happens to open it, it should heal over within a few days. However, you and the child have at least two days hard driving to do before you get to safety and we still have to get out of here. So catch your breath and we'll make our bid for freedom." His tone was now businesslike.

"But how..."

"You leave that up to me." He interrupted her abruptly. "Just do _exactly _as I say and we will make it out of here in one piece."

"What if I don't _want_ to do what you say?" She asked stubbornly. "I don't even know you."

He smiled at her rather humourlessly. "Because if you don't you won't get out of here, they will turn you into a werewolf...if you are lucky, since they're bound to find out that you aren't Allie's mother and they will turn the child as well. Do you really wish to see her pitted against her father in battle?"

She shuddered. "No."

"Then do as I say and we'll be fine." He said shortly. He gestured for her to take Allie's hand, which she did. "Let's go."

ooOoo

It had to have been the most painless escape ever. Catherine had to stop herself from gaping as the Lycan guards simply let the blond man past with them walking in front of him like a captor with his prisoners. If she hadn't thought that it wasn't possible, she would have thought that he used some kind of funky Jedi mind control stuff on them. He nodded pleasantly at various people as he strolled past with them in front of him and it was obvious that they thought he was taking them somewhere important. Nobody stopped them; nobody questioned them.

She held her breath as they approached the final hurdle...the guard post which was manned by three Lycans. He turned to her without stopping. "Don't do anything stupid Catherine. Let me deal with them. We don't want to leave a trail of broken bodies in our wake and nicely alert everyone that we're escaping. If you do any high kicking karate stuff, it will draw unnecessary attention to us."

Catherine managed to stifle a giggle as she got a mental visual of herself trying to high kick anything at the moment with a gaping wound in her side.

They stopped at the gate and he told them to wait while he went ahead to talk to the guards. Catherine wasn't sure whether she'd just gone to sleep and not noticed anything, but after a few seconds he had disarmed the guards, silenced them and put them in the hut that served as a guardroom for the facility. She watched with great curiosity as he bent down and seemed to be searching for something in the road, then along the fence. He stood up again and raised his arms shoulder height. She could see that his eyes were closed but his lips were moving, almost as if he was making some sort of incantation. Finally he stopped and beckoned to them and they hurried forward.

He led them off the dusty track into some thick undergrowth and she had a moment's misgiving about his motives. Sure, he had led them out of that place, but where was he leading them to? She wondered if she could perhaps grab him from behind and disable him, but even as she thought it, he stopped dead in front of her, but did not turn around.

"If you _keep_ wanting to tackle me around the knees Catherine, I am going to start thinking that you have designs on my virtue." His tone was droll and she snickered before she could stop herself. "I am _trul_y rescuing you and Allie, but you obviously have difficulty with that, so it's a good job that we've reached our destination and we can shortly go our separate ways...preferably _before_ you have your wicked way with me in front of a juvenile."

Catherine blushed to the roots of her hair. "I'm sorry...it's just that in my line of work, you don't trust easily."

"I imagine you don't." He raised blond eyebrows and started to brush aside some loose undergrowth. "Now _where_ did that vehicle get to? I know it's here somewhere."

After a few minutes he had cleared enough of the undergrowth to reveal a black SUV. He opened the driver's side door and emerged with a set of keys.

"And here we are my lady. A black rescue chariot. Your route is already entered onto this very nifty navigation device and my last advice to you is that you follow it to the letter. Neither I nor the people who sent me can be responsible for what happens to you or Allie if you do not do this. Do not contact the CIA, the police or anyone else, including the child's father, do not stop unless you're desperate to relieve yourself and if you do have to do that, make sure that you pull off road so you cannot be seen. There is food and drink in the vehicle. You are making for what is called the Great St Bernard Pass, which is closed because of an archaeological dig. There, at the dig, you will find people who will help and protect you against Herumor who is bound to send his best people after you. Now get in the vehicle and drive. I will come with you as far as the road, then you can let me off. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "I understand. If I don't do as you've said we do not pass go, do not pick up two hundred dollars and go straight back to jail."

He nodded and grinned. "_Very _good Miss Dalton. Now, shall we get away from here? It won't be long before they find that you're not where they think you are." He opened the rear door for Allie who hopped in with a huge smile on her face and then he got into the front passenger seat.

Catherine drove across the rough terrain under his direction and they drove across open scrub land dotted with an occasional tree here and there for a short while, perhaps a good twenty minutes, before she saw the straight dark line which indicated that a road was ahead of them.

"Slow down and let me off here." He said abruptly as she turned onto the road. "As you can see, the navigation device is telling you to go straight on and you are now travelling south east away from the vineyard where you were being held towards Geneva, from there the device will guide you." He alighted from the vehicle gracefully. "This is where _we_ part company."

Catherine leaned over and peered out of the window at him. "We're just going to leave you here? What if they find you? Come with us, I can drop you off at the nearest big town."

He threw back his head and laughed, a rich musical sound. "I'll be fine just here."

"I don't even know your name." Catherine protested. "The Brigadier is bound to ask who you were."

He bent down to the window and kissed her swiftly on her lips before she had time to pull back. "Ah, how delightful Miss Catherine, even after your ordeal you still taste minty fresh." He winked at her and stood by the side of the road. "My name, such as it is, my dear...is Annatar. A name that our good Brigadier will recognise immediately. However, I _very_ much doubt that you and I will _ever _meet again and the loss is mine entirely. Now drive, quickly! The alarm has been sounded and you don't have much time to put some distance between you and them."

Catherine jammed her foot on the accelerator and shot away down the road. As she did so she looked into the rear view mirror for a last look at their strange rescuer only to find that nobody was there. The long road stretched back into the distance and was completely empty of any sign of life.

"He's gone back to Eru now." Allie wriggled over the seat back and sat in the front next to Catherine who leaned over and secured the child with the seat belt as best she could, what they really needed was a child safety seat. "I told you my friend would listen didn't I?"

For once in her life Catherine couldn't think of a single thing to say.

ooOoo


	60. A Brand New Start

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby.**

**Author Note: **Okay, introduction of Annatar, aka Sauron and many other names; last seen as a large fiery eyeball at the end of the Third Age. Original aim: to be an Evil Overlord for Middle-earth, came to a sticky, or should I say explosive end when his favourite piece of bling got melted down in Mount Doom, thank you Gollum for that, after all Frodo did actually fail his quest at the end...theoretically of course. In actual fact he completed his quest when he showed mercy to Gollum when everyone else thought he should die. Everyone had a part in the War of the Ring.

Annatar is making a spotlight appearance only in this story. He is a means to an end for Eru who needed someone with sufficient charisma left to fool Herumor's minions and after sojourning for a few thousands years at Eru's pleasure in one of the eight punishment rings of the Timeless Halls along with other notable Ainur who transgressed the word of God, (Not Melkor/Morgoth of course who is actually in the Void with the rest of the _really _evil unmentionables across the dimensions) he was offered a one-time chance to do some good and subsequently jumped at it. I think that the punishment rings of the Timeless Halls are probably quite boring with a lot of time to think over one's crimes.

Anyway, Annatar will probably have more than a walk-on part in my next story which will, of course, encompass his subsequent reparations for his many crimes against Middle-earth and in order to do this he will accept the sacrifice of becoming completely mortal, although the Powers That Be reserve the right to assist him where and when it's desperately needed. He might even have his own gang!

We shall see. The next story in my Tales of the Modern Silmarillion is still being planned out. Suffice to say that the action of rescuing the Herald's daughter from Herumor is the first stage of his rehabilitation. He is unlikely to make another appearance after the brief interlude below in Dark Power unless it's towards the very end of the story.

"**Giles: ** All right. I'll just jump into my time machine, go back to the 12th century and ask the vampires to postpone their ancient prophecy for a few days while you take in dinner and a show.  
**Buffy:** Okay, at this point you're abusing sarcasm."

- _**Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Never Kill a Boy on the First Date**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 60 – A Brand New Start**

**Southern California...circa 1997**

As the Vehicle carrying Eonwe's daughter and Catherine faded from his sight down the road Annatar mentally prepared himself as he felt his physical body begin to weaken. His fleshly form had been given to him only for the purposes of the rescue and now it was time for him to hand it back.

_I feel like a bloody library book. _He thought to himself as the familiar fizzling feeling of de-materialisation overtook him.

Now where the hell had that thought come from?

It took a couple of minutes for him to realise that the cool floating nothingness which usually surrounded him in the seventh punishment circle of the Timeless Halls where his spirit habitually resided was absent. Instead it felt warm...like a warm slightly scented breeze even, reminiscent of the balmy beaches of Valinor up the coast from Alqualonde. A memory of cavorting in that water along with other Maiar brushed against his mind. He saw Arien, always bright, brittle and unforgettable, chasing along the beach and taking the light and heat that were too much for many Maiar, never mind the more delicate Eldar, along with her. He had never been quite sure why the more gentle and empathic Eönwë was attracted to her.

Ah, now there was a memory; Eönwë rising from the waves like a golden Adonis, all rippling muscles and the epitome of male beauty, droplets of clear water shining like diamonds and clinging to his long lustrous golden brown hair, and then him spoiling the vision of perfection utterly with a naughty smile and a glint in his dark blue eyes as he smacked the water hard just as his brother Fionwe and Osse, Lord Ulmo's Maia, emerged from their underwater sortie.

There followed a howl of outrage and a huge splash of water as those same Maia yanked Eönwë back underwater and the booming laughter of Lord Ulmo as he watched the children frolic in his waves.

Eönwë had _always_ been beautiful. There was a wonderful male earthiness about him. Even in the natural perfume of his body. Annatar had always admired the Herald and looked up to him, until he had listened to the honeyed deception of Melkor of course, then everything had changed.

Now Annatar was alarmed. When in hell's name had he been so admiring of Eönwë? He had _hated_ Eönwë, the favoured child of Varda and Manwe, with a passion! Hadn't he? The Maiar themselves had no real concept of sexual love and so he would never have acknowledged it as such at the time. A shiver passed over him. Had he loved Eönwë in a way that was not acceptable? Had that been the beginning of the corruption for him?

Or had he become so warped that all he could think was that his feelings for his fellow Maia were somehow corrupted?

_Love._..he _had_ felt love, but not physical attraction. He had felt the love of a brother towards another brother. Somewhere he relaxed as relief hit him just under the surface of these memories and sensations. He had done something recently, for the sake of the love he held for Eönwë. What was it? Why could he not remember? Why was everything so jumbled inside his head?

It was that realisation, the fact that he couldn't remember his recent actions, but he _could_ remember with such clarity a time before the music of Arda had become discordant for him, along with the jarring sound of somebody dropping something hard and heavy beside him that abruptly brought him to the surface of reality.

Somebody was talking to him, a whiny, jarring female somebody with a drawling accent.

"_Hellooo._ Oh. My. God. Are you _asleep_?"

He felt a very real hand on his arm and then the owner of the hand shook him hard. For a moment he felt a great reluctance to open his eyes, but open them he did and found himself staring straight into the face of a young woman, almost a young girl even. Masses of dark carefully coiffed hair tumbled artfully over slender shoulders. Her eyes were a dark colour...deep brown or just a very dark green? It was difficult to tell. Her mouth was wide and filled to the brim with the most cosmetically perfect white teeth he had ever seen outside Valinor. He could feel himself squinting at her in confusion.

Wait...he was _squinting?_ And he could_ hear _her? He raised trembling hands to his face. He had a face! _And _he had ears.

"Are you some kind of _retard_? Couldn't they _find _a librarian who actually _has _a brain?" She stuck her face right into his. "Hello, is there _anyone_ at home?"

_Ouch._ He winced. The beautiful girl had the face of an angel and the shrill unpleasant voice of a harridan from a hell dimension in the Void.

He sat up properly and cast a glance around him. Stacks of wooden bookshelves filled with books stood at eye level and were reached by a polished wooden staircase. Down below the raised stacks of bookshelves there was what seemed to be a reading or sitting area, possibly for studying of some sort. A large polished wooden table surrounded by fairly utilitarian looking wooden chairs sat in the middle of the reading area presumably for that purpose. Stacks of books were balanced precariously on the table and there was a green shaded lamp in the middle which shed a cosy glow over everything. He was currently sitting on one of the chairs.

To his right was a long wood panelled bench or desk with some white, stark looking equipment of some kind on it and beyond that was a set of double doors. Beyond them, a terrible noise was manifesting itself. A slamming of many doors, a thundering of many feet, a buzz of voices, some deep, some light and some as shrill as the young and very nubile Nemesis who stood facing him with a an expression of utter contempt on her beautiful face and her hands on her curvaceous hips.

He cleared his throat which suddenly felt very dry and stared at the girl in front of him. "Ah...can...can I help you?"

She rolled her eyes heavenward in the age-old way of teenagers conveying tedium with a brainless adult. "About _time_. I've only been speaking to you for about ten minutes. I have an elsewhere to be you know...people to talk to, phone calls to make, classes to attend. And I thought English people were all big with the good manners?" She picked the large, thick and very heavy looking book up from the table beside him and then slammed it back down so hard it actually made him jump and wince again. "You sent me a reminder about this Psychology Book to my home? I took it out a few weeks back."

Memories started to shift into place. Information popped into his head as he began to take in the fact that not only was he _not_ back in one of the eight punishment circles of the Timeless Halls, he also had a body...a real human body...a body which twinged and hurt as he tried to unfold it out of the chair. He was _mortal,_ he realised with a jolt.

He lurched towards the long desk area simply because that was where the girl had marched over to, only just remembering to pick the heavy book up and take it with him. As he walked he managed to regain some sense of balance so it was with some reasonable measure of control that he went behind the long desk and found his fingers unerringly begin to use the strange white equipment in front of him, even though on one level he knew that he had never seen its like before.

_Computer,_ said a voice somewhere deep in his psyche and then all the garbled information and carefully constructed memories being fed into him started to come together and make some sense.

"Ah...yes." He found the book on the system, but how he found it was anyone's guess; the part of his brain that dealt with this stuff was apparently working separately to the part of his brain that was still residing in the Timeless Halls. "A History of Psychology." He raised his gaze to the young woman who was now staring at him with both beautifully plucked eyebrows raised. "You took the book out two years ago... the fine is quite large."

She raised those eyebrows even further. "Well _d'uh_...you gotta have the right stuff with you when you talk to college boys. The psychology book _always_ impresses them."

She spoke as though it was a given that he would understand perfectly. As it was the matter of fact statement only served to confuse him more.

"You took the book out to impress_ boys_?"

She sighed impatiently and shook her head. "Well _yeah_...and not just _any _boys..._college _boys." She stressed the word 'college' as though it was some magical mantra. "Why _else _would I take anything out of this crappy library?"

"To read, perhaps?" Somehow he managed to get a sardonic note in his voice despite his considerable confusion at his new state of being.

She huffed out a short laugh of complete derision. "Nuh..._uh_. If I _want _to read books on psychology I'll get my folk to buy a_ new o_ne for me, not the crappy things in this excuse for a library."

She stared into the even gaze of his blue eyes. It occurred to her briefly that for some olde worlde, ancient English guy, he was actually rather cute, if you ignored the slightly receding brown hair and weird little wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Her random thoughts sprang into his brain from thin air and he felt his face colour a little under her critical examination of him. He took the glasses off, started to polish them with a cloth from his jacket pocket and thereby discovered that not only was he mortal _and_ human, he was also very near-sighted.

_Wonderful,_ he thought sarcastically. _My cup runneth over. I'm mortal and I'm as blind as a bloody bat! How ironic considering my last incarnation in Middle-earth._

"Be that as it may." He broke the eye contact between them, hastily put the glasses back on and said in a deceptively soft voice. "The rules are that you take the books out of the library for seven days, then you bring them back. If you fail to bring them back, you have to pay ten cents a day for each overdue day and by my reckoning..." He pulled a pad over and started to scribble on it. "...you owe the school library seventy-three dollars in overdue fines."

Her large mouth dropped open in shock. "You're going to make me _pay_ the fines?"

His mouth twitched slightly and it was with some difficulty that he managed to keep a straight face. "Indeed I am. Will you be paying by cash or check?"

"Oh god..._whatever._" She managed to put a world of contempt in that one word. She opened her expensive Gucci bag and flung a hundred dollar note on the desk, then she turned on her expensive Jimmy Choo heels and strode towards the door.

"Don't you want your change?" A note of sly amusement crept into Annatar's voice and he stealthily admired the shapely backside in the very short skirt and the long slender legs as they ate up the length of library floor and reached the double swing doors. She left the room without a word in a flurry of silky dark hair, legs like a young filly and expensive perfume. "Apparently not." He murmured to no one in particular.

So_ this _was his new task then? He was a near-sighted school librarian dealing with a bunch of bloody insolent schoolchildren if _her_ attitude was anything to go by? Eru was _obviously_ having a _very_ good laugh at his expense.

ooOoo


	61. Eru works in mysterious ways

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby. Any references to the world created by Joss Whedon belong to him.**

**Author Note: **Well, well poor old Annatar eh? What a turn up for the book and what a naughty person I am! Fancy leaving him high and dry with a receding hairline, dodgy eyesight and in the hands of a bunch of horrible hormonal teenagers. It's probably just what he deserves really. Nobody said that his healing and road back to redemption would be easy.

So back to the story.

**Previously, in Dark Power Arising...** Catherine and Allie are on the run from Herumor and are heading south east into Switzerland where they will make for the Great St Bernard Pass which is, of course, the pass through the mountain formerly known as Caradhras. Inside the Pass an archaeological dig is taking place which is sponsored by Grigori Enterprises. If Catherine and Allie reach the dig site before their pursuers overtake them, then they will come under the protection of the Grigori and the Elves, Maia and humans who are currently working there.

Eönwë, Draugluin, Maedhros, Maglor and the Grigori warriors from London are heading to Le Creusot with the intent of rescuing Allie and Catherine and Eönwë probably has the side intention of ruthlessly destroying every werewolf that might have laid hands on his daughter. They do not yet know that Allie and Catherine have already been rescued and it's highly doubtful that they'll catch up with them before they reach Switzerland and the protection of those at the dig site.

Will Eönwë leave the vineyard at Le Creusot standing? Or will he obliterate the whole operation and raze it to the ground? Who knows? It's all up for grabs folks!

In fact _I _don't even know what will happen since these bloody characters hijack my brain and my hands every time I sit down to write a chapter and do whatever they darn well please!

And here we go...I can feel myself being channelled by Eönwë as we speak and he is _not_ a happy Teddy Bear.

"**The First Evil As Eve**: I'll be sending a guest over to visit y'all later on tonight. After the sun goes down, of course. Try and make him feel welcome, before he rips you all to pieces"

- _**Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Season 7**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 61 – Eru works in mysterious ways**

**A disused vineyard north of Le Creusot, France**

Eönwë looked down with distaste at the slumped, trembling form in the now ruined exterior buildings of the so-called 'deserted' vineyard where his daughter and Catherine Dalton had been kept prisoner.

Maedhros, Maglor and the Kerubim warriors were even now going through the lower levels of the vineyard, once used to store wine because the temperature down there was cool and constant. The Grigori who had taken the captives from the freighter had landed by helicopter an hour ago and Eönwë had consigned the werewolves who had not died in the fight to their care. They would be taken back to London and held in a secure area until the scientists could figure out a way to either muzzle them or turn them back into human beings.

They had found the cave prison in which Allie and Catherine had been kept, but there was no sign of any struggle or anything to show their fate, other than blood which Draugluin said was Catherine's, and up until Draugluin had dragged a werewolf guard found cringing nearby and used his own particular brand of interrogation on him, they had assumed that the captives had been moved elsewhere at Herumor's command. However they had discovered from the guard that Herumor had indeed been on his way, but had turned back as soon as he realised the vineyard was under attack. The only thing that the guard would say was that one of Herumor's people, a man they had never seen before, came and took the prisoners away with him. The leader of the werewolves at the vineyard had then discovered the unconscious forms of the gate guards and the protective magic wards place on the gate to prevent illegal access or exit had been stripped away. Soon after that Eönwë and his group had fallen upon the vineyard and razed it almost to the ground. Nobody had escaped. Those who had run, came upon the Kerubim and fell to the ground gibbering with fear.

"So..." Draugluin drew a razor sharp claw down the trembling guard's cheek, drawing more blood all the way while Eönwë stared down at them dispassionately. "Are you telling me that somebody _else_ has the child and the woman? Someone who is _not_ part of Herumor's organisation?"

The man whimpered at the sight of the glowing red eyes of the Werewolf in front of him, a creature that so surpassed any kind of werewolf he had ever seen before. "I...I don't know. He seemed like one of us and he was confident, we didn't question him when he said that he had orders to take the prisoners away with him." He said and flinched as Draugluin stood back up and transformed back to his humanoid form.

"He doesn't know anything else." He said to Eönwë who nodded in agreement.

The Herald turned to a Kerubim who stood watch, sword held loosely between his hands. "Put him with the others, there is no more information to be had from him."

Maedhros and Maglor, swords in hand, emerged with the other Kerubim from the now shattered doorway of the main Cellar Room. They looked exactly like the fell, shining warriors they had been in the War of Wrath and Eönwë was thankful for it this time.

"Anything?" He asked, but the hope of them finding any sign of his daughter and her companion was growing dim.

Maglor shook his head. "Nothing. Everything we have found points to Allie and the American woman being held here but walking out of here unharmed."

Eönwë sighed and sheathed his own sword. "Accompanied by person or persons unknown." He pointed to the man being loaded onto the helicopter. "Draugluin managed to ascertain that someone, a man they thought had come from Herumor, came and took Allie and Catherine out of here. He apparently simply walked them past the guards who made no attempt to stop them, nor did they realise anything was wrong. He disabled the protective wards placed on the gates and perimeter of the vineyard by Herumor's Magi and overcame the guards in the guardroom."

"Killed them?" Maedhros leaned on his sword.

Eönwë shook his head. "Apparently not. He merely rendered them unconscious, but there wasn't a mark on them."

Maedhros took out a cloth from his jacket pocket and wiped the sweat away from his brow. "Someone with power then."

"Yes." Eönwë turned away and stared into the distance. "Herumor is acting for someone else though, someone infinitely more powerful than he is. He is paving the way for this new horror, that much I can tell from this place. Allie was to be his ace in the hole and there is no way that he would have sent someone for her. He was coming himself. So... someone else has intervened."

"The question being...who and why?" Draugluin said quietly. "And this powerful being, are we to guess who this is? It cannot be Morgoth. Nobody escapes from the punishment circles of the Timeless Halls... _what_? What did I say?"

Eönwë had gone as pale as death as he turned to them with a look very much akin to fear in his eyes.

"He is not in the punishment circles of the Timeless Halls." He whispered as the horrible realisation hit him. "The Valar pushed him through the Doors of Night into the Void. He has been there ever since the War of Wrath."

"_What?"_ Draugluin stepped towards him; his own face was drawn and white and his eyes shone unnaturally even for a Maia. "The Valar did _not _send him to the Archangel Michael for judgement and imprisonment on Eru's behalf?"

Eönwë shook his head slowly. "We...the Maiar, e...even myself as Commander of the Host were not privy to the final decision of the Valar. All we knew was that they had the final judgement call as to his punishment. We did not even take him to the Doors of Night. He was taken in chains by Tulkas and the other Valar accompanied him, apart from Lord Ulmo who left the Ring of Doom saying that he washed his hands of the whole affair. I must admit that we wondered at him, but he would say nothing, not even to his own Maiar when asked. All he would say was that it was done, justice was served. We were then told of his fate and it seemed to us that it was finished with. Morgoth had gone into the Void, never to be released. We would not have questioned them anyway. It was not our place to question their decisions."

Draugluin sagged against a low stone wall and wiped the back of his hand over his eyes. "The Void." He said helplessly. "They put him in the bloody Void. Of all the _stupid,_ idiotic, crazy things to do and now it's coming back to bite us _all _in the arse."

"But surely...that was the place for him to be?" Maglor ventured hesitantly. Joshua had come over to them by this time and had heard Eonwe's description of the punishment of Morgoth. A profound look of sorrow and trepidation wreathed his handsome features.

"The Void is not a place where anyone disposed towards great evil should be." He answered the Elf quietly. "The Void is _not_ just empty space. It is filled with a myriad of hellish dimensions where the evil creatures, demons, self-styled powerful demi-gods and souls of those far beyond redemption were banished to and now live. It is a place between the worlds of reality and the fabric between those dimensions and this reality is worn thin in places. There are places on this earth where the fabric is so thin it encourages evil and supernatural power. There is such a place in the United States and our American Headquarters monitor it as best they can. To leave someone like Morgoth in there is to leave a banner for all evil to rally to. Morgoth is the First Evil and as such can command and control those lesser beings in the Void. Even Semjaza, who greatly transgressed the word and will of Eru was not placed in the Void. His soul was set in amongst the stars in the Belt of Orion as a warning. Your own Sauron, he who was Morgoth's lieutenant, was not even taken there."

Maglor's brow furrowed in confusion. "But Sauron was utterly defeated. My foster-son's descendant, Elessar, saw it done himself. The ring was destroyed and the projection of his spirit was dissipated in fire."

Joshua stared at him for a moment as if he didn't wish to say what was on his lips. Finally he spoke.

"Do you think that _nothing _of Sauron remained after the destruction of the vessel in which he placed all of his evil intent?"

"It was assumed..." Maglor began. He had been in Middle-earth during the War of the Ring, but had been unable to help as he wandered the shores in pain so severe that he thought it would drive him utterly mad.

"Ah, yes..._assumptions_." Draugluin interposed sarcastically. "And _what_ do we know about assumptions gentlemen?"

"Assumptions are dangerous things Maglor." Joshua said gently. "Bereft of the evil which he had poured into the ring, his fea was set free, but he was not allowed to answer the call of Mandos even as it came to him. Before he could answer it Raguel and Gabriel came for him and he was taken directly to the Timeless Halls to answer for his actions in front of Eru himself. It was Eru who gave the final judgement; that Sauron was to forever leave behind that name and become Annatar and he would work out his punishment in the seventh circle of punishment in accordance with whatever Eru wished. This, we were told by Raguel himself. Annatar accepted the punishment and went meekly with his guards. All of his power, evil intent and darkness had been purged and all that was finally left was the Ainur spirit he had been before the corruption. It was a much weakened and distraught Annatar who entered captivity under the watchful eye of the Ainur and Eru."

Eönwë took a step towards Joshua. "But he is _still _imprisoned there? And Morgoth is still in the Void?"

Joshua shifted uncomfortably. "I am not at liberty to speak about Annatar Lord Eönwë . I am told that if you wish for more information about him, you must go back to Valinor and speak to Raguel who is currently residing there. As to Morgoth, you must speak with the Valar. Lord Namo would know if he had escaped."

"And my daughter?"

Joshua shook his head. "I know not who came for her and I have had no instructions or information from Vevey about that, except to say that you should travel back and seek counsel with Raguel and the Valar. We will stay here and finish the sweep up until you return. In the meantime Lord Joaquim has the shamans doing locator spells to see if they can find Allie and the American woman. My Kerubim, with the assistance of your companions will do a further sweep in the surrounding area to see if we can find any sign of them or their current captor."

Eönwë inclined his head courteously. "My thanks Joshua. My companions are at your disposal." He turned to Draugluin and the two Elves. "I will do as has been suggested and I will return when I have some answers. In the meantime, please assist Joshua."

Draugluin squeezed his shoulder and smiled reassuringly at him.

"Of course we will. We will be here when you return and hopefully we will have answers of our own. In the meantime I need to get my tracking head on." He immediately transformed into the sleek, silver furred werewolf. "So are we just going to stand here while the trail goes cold?"

If Draugluin had possessed eyebrows in wolf form they would have been raised.

"As long as I live, I will never _ever_ get used to that." Maedhros murmured. He shouldered his sword and loped after the Maia. Maglor shrugged and followed them. Joshua turned to say something to Eönwë and found he was talking to empty air. Eönwë had already disincarnated and re-materialised in Máhanaxar even as Draugluin had transformed.

ooOoo

**Máhanaxar, outside the Western Gates of Valmar...**

The Valar and Raguel were in council in Máhanaxar when Eönwë suddenly materialised in the middle of them. Dirty, still dressed in the same desert combat clothes he had worn on the official visit of General Sheldon to Helmand Province in Afghanistan three days earlier which were more than a bit worse for the wear by now and covered in dust and blood, the Herald was in an emotional state such as the Valar, with perhaps the exception of Tulkas had never seen him in before. Even Olorin, in attendance on Lord Manwe hastily put down the tray he was holding and took a step towards Eönwë, only to stop dead in his tracks a few yards away, pierced to the spot by the look on his fellow Maia's face.

Eonwe's normally pleasing features were twisted into such despair and incandescent fury that the Valar were frozen into place, just as Olorin had been. Tears of anger and utter despair had tracked down the dust and dirt on his face and he held his sword, unsheathed, in front of him. This was something that had _never_ been done in this place and in the presence of the Valar and the Maiar present were open-mouthed with astonishment.

Raguel was the only one who moved. He stood up as Eönwë revolved on the spot. The Herald spotted him and leapt the distance between them in a single bound. He was long past feeling fear. He had spent the entire last three days living on his emotions and his very last nerve was twanging like an overstrung guitar string.

Nienna, who normally did not attend these councils, stopped what she was doing in her Halls. Her face crumpled in distress and concern. "_Oh no._.."

Her Maiar heard her whisper and then she flung her wispy black raiment around her and abruptly disappeared. She materialised in the Ring of Doom just as Raguel was backing away from a deadly looking Eönwë, sword pointed against the Ainur's throat. To his credit Raguel did not give ground and disincarnate despite the fact that Eönwë could have done his physical form a great deal of harm.

"_Tell me._" Eonwe's voice was a silky, but deadly whisper. "Tell me of Annatar and tell me what you know of the Void."

"No... Eönwë .._.please_...this will not help matters." There was a note of pleading in Nienna's voice, but the Herald either could not or would not hear her.

Manwe sat practically electrified to his marble chair. His head swivelled around to Namo who was standing calmly in front of his seat watching the scene in front of him with narrowed eyes.

"Namo..._do_ something." Manwe's voice cracked on the last note.

Namo folded his arms. "_You_ do something. You're the Elder King. All I know is that we had better have some reasonable answers about our actions for our Herald or he will do something that we will all live to regret."

"I _knew_ it." Ulmo's booming matter of fact voice sounded from behind them. "Not insomuch as I knew _this _would happen, but I knew _something_ bad was going to come of our decision at the end of the War of Wrath."

Manwe glared waspishly at him. "What makes you think that this is about that?"

"He mentioned the Void." Ulmo said primly. "The only reason we have anything to do with the Void is because..._oh yes._.. we sent the most evil person in Arda into it to rattle around and bump uglies with whatever other nastiness was stinking in there or whatever he does to get people to follow him. I think that Eönwë has finally added two and two together."

Manwe slumped in his chair. "Where else were we to send him? Eru said that it was up to us to punish him. We do not have prisons such as they do in the Timeless Halls to keep such as Morgoth until the end of time. We assumed..."

Eonwe's head spun around in a movement very reminiscent of the Kerubim and his features actually had lengthened. He looked deadly dangerous with silver light leaking from the corners of his eyes. Raguel saw that and smiled faintly. It seemed that the more domesticated Ainur in the form of the Maiar were not so far removed from their brethren in the Timeless Halls or those earthbound in Arda after all.

Eönwë moved towards the dais where the Valar sat with the deadly grace of the ultimate predator. He had still not sheathed his sword and Manwe found that his attention was focussed completely on the broad shining and lethal blade. "_Assumed? What_ did you assume? That the denizens of the Void would bring him down a peg or two? Well I have news for you, and it's _all_ bad... Morgoth has bent the hideous evil of those in the Void to his will and is behind this current darkness...i_sn't he?_" This last barbed question pierced Raguel where he stood.

The representative of Eru stood his ground. "We believe so, yes and it is not the first time he has tried to get free. There was a very serious incident seven years ago when he managed to exert influence over a set of unfortunate circumstances in Arda...in the south western United States of America to be precise. The circumstances involved the Warrior of the People...Eru's mortal champion on earth and the Hellmouth she was bound to watch over and protect. Hellmouths are places of increased supernatural energy. This is the area in which the barriers between dimensions which comprise the Void are weak. The Hellmouth has a focal point, which serves as a portal between earth and the Hell Dimensions of the Void."

Manwe stood up slowly and pierced Raguel with his own considerably powerful gaze. "I take it he did not prevail."

"No. Fortunately the Warrior of the People galvanised herself, her companions and her fellow warriors and took them into battle against his servants. It was a hard battle and one which had a lead up of many terrible long and bloody days. Girls died...young girls, who should not have died, but they prevailed against him in the end. They did not know him by the name of Morgoth. For them, he was the First Evil, but a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. The second time he almost managed to prevail was when Eönwë, as Gary Matthews and his companions were drawn back into the past, into the War of Wrath and I believe that I do not need to regurgitate those events to you all." Raguel glanced around at the shocked Valar and assumed by their silence that they did not need any explanation of that time. "There were a few abortive attempts previous to the year 2003 of course, but they were not by Morgoth, however there is no doubt that had the other attempts to breach the Hellmouth succeeded Morgoth would not have been far behind. The calling of Semjaza's soul forth also weakened the barriers and allowed some of Morgoth's essence to come through then. It is that which has caused Herumor to arise to do his Master's bidding."

"You said 'she'" Varda interposed quietly. Raguel turned to her with a look of query. "This Warrior of the People, Eru's champion on earth, you said that this champion is female."

Raguel nodded. "Her origins go all the way back to the point where Melkor roamed Middle-earth freely and caused havoc among the Secondborn when they awoke in the East. During that time evil also walked freely, encouraged by Melkor. The area in which the Secondborn awoke was their hunting grounds. They fed on the humans they could catch. You had all left to go to Valinor by that point. the Elves stayed in the West of Middle-earth in their hidden kingdoms, unless they were making sortie against Morgoth. The wise men of the Secondborn decided that they needed to set a thief to catch a thief, so they took a female child and imbued her with the essence of a demon by using dark earth magicks, she is part human and part demon and her line is _always_ female. This mystical calling endows the Champion with dramatically increased physical strength, as well as endurance, agility, accelerated healing, intuition, and a limited degree of clairvoyance, usually in the form of prophetic dreams. Their lifespans are usually short and violent and when one dies another is called immediately."

"But then it would seem to me, that this Champion is not actually called by Eru and is, instead, called to her position by the will of Mankind." Varda suggested.

Raguel shook his head. "Not so Lady Varda. Eru saw what was happening. He thought at first that he might draw your attention to this Champion of the people, but your gaze ever turned towards the Firstborn and your first thoughts were to the protection of their light, wisdom and beauty. He did not blame any of you for that. The Firstborn are precious to him also, but the Secondborn are no less so to him, since it was he who caused them to exist. He therefore appeared to the wise men of the tribe and bound the line of Champions to his service and this state of affairs has remained until this very day and will remain beyond it. After that, the Champion did _and _does the bidding of what she and her guides call The Powers That Be."

Eönwë had been silent through this explanation, his head and shoulders were bowed down as if under a great weight of grief and anger, but now he raised his head up and stared Raguel straight in the face. All those present could see the vast dam of despair and tears that was building up inside him and there wasn't anyone in that place that day who did not feel overwhelmed with pity for the much pressured Herald.

"And my daughter? What has all this to do with my daughter? Someone took her from the vineyard where she was held with her companion. He took them both. He effortlessly took them through magical wards and protections that neither could have moved through without some kind of assistance from a being of great power." He stared hard at Raguel. "Was that someone Sauron? Answer me quickly!" His voice rose on the last word and then cracked. The tears had begun to fall. Eönwë had finally reached breaking point.

Raguel stared at him compassionately and when he spoke his voice was gentle. "It was."

Eönwë fell to his knees in a paroxysm of grief. "Then we have lost her."

The sound of his sobbing cut everyone there through to their very core as if with the sharpest knife. Nienna flung herself down beside him and wept with him. She pulled his head onto her shoulder and they knelt there together in the dust of the Ring of Doom. And they were not the only ones who were weeping. The tears tumbled freely down Olorin's cheeks and he barely acknowledged Ilmare when she grasped his arm in great anxiety. She whispered in his ear and he turned to look at her, then he smiled and nodded. As he turned to leave he found Lord Irmo in front of him.

"Go quickly." Was all the Lord of Lorien said, and Olorin left Máhanaxar in great haste.

Raguel bent down to the crumpled, despairing heap that was the Herald of Manwe. "Child, do not despair so. This is not as bad as it seems. Yes, the one you call Sauron, but which we call Annatar took your daughter and her companion from the vineyard, but he did not do so at the behest of Morgoth or Herumor, Morgoth's servant on earth. He did so at the behest of Eru Iluvatar himself."

Eönwë gazed up at him through blue eyes drowned in tears. "Then where are they?"

"Allie and Catherine are currently in a vehicle travelling towards Switzerland, but Herumor's best people are in hot pursuit." Eönwë struggled to stand up. He looked as though he would disincarnate himself in a moment to get back to France. "Peace child. At the moment they are ahead of the game and unless Fate intervenes in a most untimely way, then they will make it to the Great St Bernard Pass before their pursuers overtake them. There, at the Pass which you and the Eldar know as Moria, they will find protection. Seth Falconer, the head of the Grigori Kerubim is there as you well know, along with his people and four of the finest warriors the Eldar ever produced _and _a decorated former US Army Ranger who is a descendent of the Dunedain. They will die before they allow her to be harmed, you_ know_ this."

Eönwë nodded weakly. He slumped back against Raguel and his breath came in short sobbing gasps.

"And Sauron...or Annatar or whatever he calls himself now?" Tulkas scowled down at Raguel.

"He is not with them any longer. He only stayed to see them into the vehicle and on their way before he was called back to receive another, very important task from the Archangel Michael on behalf of Eru. I cannot go into details of this task, but suffice to say it is part of his path to redemption." Raguel bent down and helped Nienna raise Eönwë to his feet. They brought him to the dais and Manwe himself stepped aside to allow the Herald to sit in his chair. His blue eyes were filled with tears of compassion for the Maiar he loved as a father loves a son.

"Can we not speak to him? To ascertain his state of mind for ourselves?" Ulmo asked hesitantly.

Raguel shook his head. "What you ask is reasonable but not possible. When Annatar was dematerialised on the road in France by Michael his memories of what he had done were wiped immediately and he was taken back to another time in the past where his presence as a servant of Eru was much needed. From that time to this he has worked at this task alongside the current Champion of the People. He fought alongside her to contain Morgoth seven years ago and they both now enjoy a much deserved rest. I doubt you would recognise him now. He is not the same person you knew."

Manwe frowned in bewilderment. "But we feel the presence of _all_ of our Maiar, whether corrupted or not, how is it we do not feel him?"

Raguel grinned at them. "Perhaps because he is no longer a Maiar or indeed any kind of Ainur. Annatar is now a mortal."

"Well I'll be damned." Murmured Ulmo. "I certainly didn't see that one coming."

"Neither did he." Raguel said wickedly. "However, I think that perhaps a change of Fana for Lord Eönwë is in order, or perhaps he might just like to relax in a nice warm bath. A hot meal and some wine would not come amiss either."

"Of course.. of course. Olorin?" Manwe looked around him for his temporary Herald. "Where on earth has he got to?"

His answer came in the form of Olorin suddenly materialising in Máhanaxar but he was not alone. He had a small, slim blonde woman with him who spotted her distressed husband immediately and ran straight into his arms without even greeting any of the Valar.

The Valar and Raguel immediately disincarnated in order that the Herald could greet his wife in private. Only Lord Irmo, Lady Nienna and Olorin remained.

Eönwë and Kim stood with their arms wrapped around each other. His tears were still falling and she kissed them away and spoke quietly and reassuringly with him. Olorin had already briefed her on the fact that Allie was currently as safe as she possibly could be with Catherine Dalton driving them towards Moria and relative safety. She even had some extra reassurance in the form of information from Joaquim and Sariel in Vevey. The Grigori shamans had managed to locate the area they were travelling through and were monitoring them. Joshua, Draugluin, Maedhros and Maglor were already in helicopters flying towards Moria with the intent of stopping Herumor's people from pursuing their prey further. As she whispered all of this to him Eönwë gradually stopped weeping and soon they just stood holding each other close.

"She's going to be fine darling." Kim said softly. She gently kissed his lips and at the same time she brushed damp tendrils of hair away from his brow.

"I should be there." Eönwë said distractedly. "I need to to see her Kim, I need to tell her how much I love her. She must have been so frightened. I should have been there."

Kim rolled her eyes in exasperation. "And so should I. I'm her mother, I should know where she is at all times and I failed her...and Haldir is practically wearing a hair shirt and flagellating himself because he says it's his fault. Oh...Erin is busy putting a stronger lock on the gate assisted by Maksim who is actually much better at stuff like that than your second in command. The language is_ terrible _every time Erin hits his thumb with the hammer and I have no idea where he learnt it all. Maksim was quite losing patience with him as Olorin came to whisk me away. I left Celebrian and Nerdanel to deal with it."

Eönwë managed a watery chuckle. "He probably learned it from Jim and Finrod who watches far too much television."

"Well, be that as it may, I think we need to get you cleaned up and rested before we head back to pick Allie up. By that time she should be safely ensconced in Moria with Elrond, Thranduil and Glorfindel, not to mention the Grigori and Eve's father who is Professor Hallam, the man in charge of the dig. And to be honest there is no one that I would rather trust my daughter to than them." She poked him in the arm. "So what do you say we go with Lord Irmo and get sorted?"

Eönwë nodded, he looked up at Irmo who was standing quietly beside Nienna, they were both smiling. "I am so sorry my Lord." He said apologetically.

"For what?" Irmo raised his eyebrows.

Eönwë hung his head. "For charging straight into a council session, threatening an honoured guest and being generally aggressive to the Valar whom I love and serve."

Irmo threw back his head and roared with laughter. "Well I'm not going to say it wasn't an interesting session. Normally I spend most of the council sessions trying not to snore. And it was more than worth it to see the look on Manwe's face when you advanced on us all, sword in hand. I think he thought his last hour had come. Just remind me never to get on your bad side. However I think your lovely wife is right, let's get out of here and head to Lorien, my Maiar are already preparing a pavilion for you both with a nice hot meal and a warm bath. You will soon feel much better and then you can be on your way to fetch your little girl."

They left the Ring of Doom and as they walked towards the Golden western gates of Valmar Kim turned to Eönwë with a mischievous grin on her face.

"Did you _really_ threaten the Valar with a sword?"

Eönwë blushed fire engine red under the dirt. "Not just the Valar, I nearly ran Raguel through like a shish kebob."

"Oh_ my._ What I wouldn't have given to be a fly on the wall." Was all his wife replied, but she joined in the chortles exploding from Irmo, Ilmare and Olorin who were walking behind them. Finally, after a few seconds Eönwë reluctantly joined in the laughter, but he had a feeling that _some_ kind of reprimand, however gentle because of the circumstances, would be forthcoming from Lord Manwe before he and Kim left for Middle-earth.

Still, the idea of a mortal Annatar fighting alongside the forces of Good was a rather interesting concept. Definitely one of the more stranger pieces of information to come out into the open that day. Eönwë could almost find it in himself to feel sympathy for the Champion of Eru, _whoever_ she was.

ooOoo


	62. Author Note

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby. Any references to the world created by Joss Whedon belong to him.**

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 62 - Author Note: **

I thought after Amebane's very perceptive review that I should make the policy on Dark Power Arising quite clear before I carry on with the story.

As many of you might have guessed by now, Sauron has gone back in time to 1997, where Joss Whedon's TV series started with Buffy as the Slayer moving to Sunnydale, in the mortal form of Rupert Giles as Buffy's Watcher, although none of what happens to him or Buffy will be retold in_ this _story. Snippets will, however, possibly be recounted in the next story in my Tales of the Modern Silmarillion as a way of showing just what he had to go through to earn his redemption.

Dark Power Arising, however, is _not_ about the Buffyverse and the main characters of Buffy have no real or logical place in it. So the short answer to any questions or concerns is, no, Buffy and the Slayers are _not _joining in this particular battle, however they will probably have a part of the next story which will be a crossover between Joss Whedon's world and the world of Tolkien.

There will be no silly romantic pairings in the next story. I find that the overwhelming desire for most crossover authors to pair Buffy/Dawn/Willow or whichever main character in a show etc. off with very unlikely male or even female characters in another genre is just _one_ of the things that give crossovers a bad name. Bad choice of combination of genres or universes is another one.

Also, although I am considering a crossover between Buffy and my tales of the modern Silmarillion, the operative word here is 'modern'. I would not consider doing one between the ancient world of Middle-earth and Buffy's world unless I could find a very rational explanation for it, or for her being there, as I did with Gary, Kim et al in A Singular Honour. I hate the habit of a lot of crossover writers for putting Buffy in Middle-earth smack in the middle of the War of the Ring or whatever as a major character who can kick ass better than seasoned warriors. Those stories just jar with me. Buffy is _not_ a better warrior than Eönwë, or even the other Elves. She may be as good, but she isn't better, nor is she more powerful. However as proponents in a modern world, their respective lives do fit in with each other to a great degree. The main thrust of the new story will most likely centre around a major apocalypse.

In fact there will be _no_ new pairings at all other than the obvious: Eönwë/Kim, Maedhros/Jan. I feel that those two pairings are established now. Eönwë and Kim were established in A Singular Honour and Maedhros and Jan are two lost souls who find that they have a connection which may or may not lead to something more permanent in Dark Power Arising. Annatar/Giles and Catherine Dalton are also a possibility, but I haven't decided whether to put them together or not. It may just be far too tacky. Of course there _could_ be pairings among my original characters but then that's up to me to make them believable. I don't intend to take _any_ of it out of character or context and the first moment that I sense that Eönwë and Kim's world does not mesh with the Buffyverse, I will re-write that part so that it does mesh properly.

I haven't decided on a name for the third story in the Tales of the Modern Silmarillion yet. It is probable that the third story will only be loosely linked with the first two and can be read as a standalone, but I will put a recommendation in at the start that reading the first two stories, while not critical, would help in understanding the established characters better.

So, these last couple of chapters were just a brief introduction into Sauron's ultimate fate and what Eru has insisted must be part of his redemption. Any Buffy fans will realise just what kind of pain and sacrifices Giles had to make in order to support his Slayer. He had to accept the fact that she could die violently at a very young age and yet he still had to constantly send her out there against foes which were sometimes terrible and powerful. He had to watch her die in the Glorificus season, (as I call it)and from those events he learns about pain, love and sacrifice for the greater good. He developed the love of a father towards his child in his interactions down through the years with Buffy and indeed with Willow, Xander, Dawn and occasionally it led to him making decisions that Sauron or Annatar would_ never_ have made in a month of Sundays.

Buffy will _not_ be storming into Dark Power Arising like an avening angel with her magical scythe to cut down Herumor, that final confrontation _has_ to be between Eönwë and Herumor; the whole story has been leading up to that very event. Nor will the other Slayers be bouncing in to show off their annoying nubile 'bendiness' (as portrayed in most post TV series Buffy fanfiction) and extremely murderous instincts. Dark Power Arising is _not_ about Buffy, it's about Eönwë carrying out his task given by Eru to help bring light to a stagnant modern Middle-earth, and combining that task with his role as a husband and father. It's about learning about love, facing up to loss and it's about redemption and reconnecting with family that were thought to be lost entirely. It's also about people learning where they _truly_ feel at home, both among Eönwë 's little group and the Grigori who have been strangers in a strange land since antediluvian days.

You may ask why I chose Buffy and the answer is easy. It is by far one of the best, most intelligently scripted, funny yet full of pathos TV series to come out of America. Most of the popular shows like 30 Rock or the abundance of medical/crime shows are completely lost on me. I think they are tedious and when they try to be funny it ends up like slapstick comedy. Even worse, I sometimes find that the serious moments in those shows actually have me laughing my socks off, when clearly I am meant to be empathising with them, Twilight has the same effect on me. One look at Bella's face in the movies and I either want to smack _her_ head against the wall or my own. Although I do understand that this is a matter of preference and many people love Twilight and the characters. Joss Whedon never ever degraded his show with slapstick humour, his serious moments were always believable and his scripts were very cleverly written. I wanted Annatar to become the opposite of what he had been in the Third Age and I can't think of anything further from that than a myopic, mild-mannered (at least on the surface), self-deprecating librarian.

Writing a rational, believable crossover is, for me, a _huge _challenge, just as the first story A Singular Honour was a challenge for me to alter the traditional 'Modern people fall into Middle-earth' story premise and make it a believable one, I like to think that I succeeded and I hope to succeed with my third story. I have spent a lot of time reading crossovers of all genres, some on FFN and some on Twisting the Hellmouth and hopefully my research will stop me from making the obvious errors that authors make when crossing over universes with each other.

However, as always, the storyline and the seamless blending of the characters both original and those belonging to other writers is my priority.

_**ooOoo**_


	63. Reunions

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby. Any references to the world created by Joss Whedon belong to him.**

**Author Note: **Many many thanks for a lovely reviews, always welcome. Gosh my universe is expanding. It's a good job I'm not senile yet and forget who goes where and what storyline belongs with what. The trouble is that as you get older, three things happen. The first is that your memory goes...and I can't remember the other two!

Just kidding. Slight historical explanation of Semjaza and his crimes in this chapter. Has to be done since my stupid fingers, Lord Manwe and Eönwë decided to have a discussion about that very subject.

"**Willow: I** felt the earth. It's all connected, it is, but... it's not all good and pure and rootsy. There's deep... deep black. There's... I saw... I saw the earth Giles, I saw its teeth.**  
Giles: **The Hellmouth.**  
Willow: **It's gonna open. It's gonna swallow us all."

_**- Lessons, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season 7**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 63 - Reunions**

The private gardens of Lord Manwe and Lady Varda were not a place which generally made Eönwë feel nervous, he hadn't felt this nervous since the days, aeons ago, when he had been a fledgling Maia in the company of Fionwe and Ilmare when they had first entered the service of Lord Manwe.

Dressed in clean desert combats now, somehow Olorin and Ilmare had worked magic and his uniform had been delivered cleaned and pressed and the mud had been wiped from his desert boots, Eönwë sat idly beside the fountain and trailed his hand in the sparkling water. He held the hand up and squinted at the diamond like droplets as they sprinkled through his slightly spread fingers and back into the fountain.

"You used to love to do that a long time ago." Lord Manwe's tone was soft and full of reminiscence. "It is nice to see that some things do not change."

Eönwë jumped to his feet only to be waved back down by Manwe who sat down beside him. "Don't look so worried Eönwë, I haven't brought you here to scold you, although Eru knows you gave me enough reasons to. All of us could see that you have been sorely tried and that your worry for your daughter had eroded any feelings other than terror and despair. That is as it should be. You have other things to worry you now other than how you serve us simply because at the moment you are _not_ serving us. You are a husband and a father and you are serving Eru directly. In many ways, the apology you feel you should be making at this moment would be better made to Raguel, who actually _is_ the representative of Eru."

"He wouldn't let me apologise." Eönwë said sadly. "I did try..."

Manwe smiled. "I know you did, but Raguel was right not to let you. If anything, _we _should be apologising to _you._ We let you go back to Arda Marred without information which you should have held in your possession. Our only defence is that we truly did not think that Melkor could reach out from behind the Doors of Night. It was only when we realised just how many times the Hellmouth had been used for the purposes of meddling that we realised our mistake. Sauron...Aulendil...or Annatar or whatever he calls himself now..."

"Rupert Giles..." Eönwë supplied with a slight grimace.

"Yes, the mortal Watcher...we truly had no idea what had happened to him. We were not made privy to his ultimate fate after the destruction of the One Ring. It seems that Eru must have lost patience with us." Manwe stared pensively at the water in the fountain.

Eönwë shook his head. "No my Lord, I think that they took him to the Timeless Halls for judgement simply because you and the other Valar no longer acted as stewards of Arda Marred."

Manwe sighed deeply. "You may be right and without actually asking Eru directly I suppose we will never know. Still it is _our _mistake that Melkor... Morgoth has come so close to being released from the Void. To put it in the modern vernacular, we put him in with the equivalent of an All You Can Eat Evil Buffet with a carte blanche to stuff himself stupid."

Eönwë looked up startled. Lord Manwe wasn't usually in the habit of making silly jokes. "Er...yes, I suppose you did." He said lamely. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or not.

"You _are _allowed to laugh you know." Manwe grinned at him. "I realise that my humour is a little on the rusty side, I don't get to do it much these days."

"That's not what I heard from Ilmare." Eönwë responded with a sly smile. "She says that the little private meetings and Council Meetings between the Valar can be _very_ funny."

Lord Manwe rolled his eyes heavenward. "Cheeky little minx." He muttered. "_You _never used to find them funny."

"No, but then I didn't realise just how stuffy _I_ was." Eönwë mused. "I was too busy standing on my dignity as the Herald to even _notice _whether anything was funny or not."

"Ah, yes, very true. What a serious young Maia you were then." Manwe said in a tone of fond remembrance.

Eönwë huffed a sigh and stared around the tranquil gardens. Part of him wanted to enjoy the peace and just let everything flow over him, but a much more persistent part of him was itching to get back to Middle-earth. It wasn't that he didn't trust Seth and the others to protect Allie, it was just that he wanted to touch his daughter; to cuddle her within an inch of her life; to inspect her fingers and toes just to check that all of them were present and correct.

"Are you and Kim ready to go back?" Manwe sussed out his Herald's rather erratic thoughts and smiled to himself.

The look that Eönwë turned on him was almost pathetically pleading. "Can we? I mean... is it all right..." His face fell. "I am sorry my Lord, it's just that..."

"You'd rather go and hug your daughter than speak to me?" Manwe's eyes were twinkling. "And you're wondering why I called you here if all I was going to do was take a walk down Memory Lane."

Eönwë blushed to the roots of his hair. "I..."

Manwe stopped him before he could apologise again. "Enough with the apologies already Eönwë. I didn't just call you here justvto make you feel guilty, although there was a touch of that in my intention." He chuckled when he saw the mortified look on Eönwë's face. "I called you here to warn you...about the being currently calling himself Roger Hamilton. He who houses the fea of Semjaza."

Now he had Eönwë's _complete_ attention. Manwe saw a muscle tighten in his Herald's chiselled jaw. "Is he part of Herumor's plan?" Eönwë asked, tight-lipped.

"Not for the moment, that we know of." Manwe reassured him. "However, from what we can tell from Raguel, Semjaza is inherently an agent of chaos. He is what mortals would call a wild card or a loose cannon. It is down to him that the first things mankind were aware of after they staggered out of the Ice Age of was war and strife of the bloodiest kind waged by the monstrous offspring of Semjaza and his brethren, birthed from mortal females, those who are called the Nephilim. In his own way Semjaza's voice can be as sweet and insidious as my brother Melkor's was and Raguel tells me that nobody in the Timeless Halls knows for sure which way he will align himself. He has been silent since his return to earth in fleshly form so far. He has made no attempt to contact his Grigori brethren who remained behind. This has caused them great unrest and concern. We all suspect...nay, we hope that his eyes are bent towards the east and the place that was once known as Eden, for it is in the high crags of that place that his search for knowledge will be satisfied. However this will not be the end of it for anyone."

Eönwë frowned. "He has already stated to both Jim and Finrod that this current battle with Herumor is not his concern. He says he is not at his full strength, or words to that effect."

"In this, he speaks the truth." Manwe stood up and went over to one of the trees on which a small brightly coloured bird had settled. Eönwë watched as the bird trustingly stepped onto Manwe's outstretched finger. "He will not involve himself in this current battle but we _are _concerned that his current state of weakness leaves him vulnerable to...shall we say..._other_ very disreputable influences."

"Morgoth." Eönwë managed to put a whole universe of loathing and bitterness in that one name.

Manwe nodded. "Yes, it is possible and Raguel, Michael and the others fear that Semjaza's very duality of nature may make him an easy target. He could be persuaded into seeking his power _before_ his time and that would be potentially catastrophic."

"What is the nature of this duality...this power of his?" Eönwë also stood up.

Manwe did not turn around to face his Herald. He remained where he was and tried to compose his face so that he did not look as worried as he felt. "There are two sides to Semjaza. He is capable of both great good _and_ great evil, but not both at the same time. The choice is ultimately his but cannot be made until he has passed into Eden and gained the knowledge there. To do so, he must pass the Trials set there for him. Only the revelation of his true powers which can only take place in Eden in the mountains of the east will tell him to which side he will turn. He has the capability of being both the saviour _or_ the destroyer of the realm of earth. Prophecies on earth speak much of the end of the world and Armageddon and the instrument of this end is called the Anti-Christ who will battle the Christ, these are mortal terms and names of course, but essentially the Christ is Eru in mortal form. Up to a point they are correct, however what they do not know is that it is not a battle between the mortal armies or even those of heaven led by Christ or Anti-Christ. It is not one between two separate entities at all, but one between two spirits vying for the same vessel and the power it holds."

"Semjaza himself." Eönwë whispered softly, half under his breath.

"Yes, Semjaza is is the intended vessel for both, but the choice will be a conscious one made by him to let either spirit in. If he chooses the side of good, then he will be the vessel for part of the essence of God or Eru as we call him and it is partly for this reason that you are there in Arda Marred heralding the coming of the Light and lighting the path. However, should he choose the side of evil...then...well...we are not sure how he will be used then. Possibly as a vessel for the spirit of evil...Melkor perhaps? We do not know for sure."

"Whose idiotic idea was it to make him some kind of vessel for good or evil?" Eönwë couldn't keep the disbelief and irritation out of his voice. "And whyin the name of all that is holy_ give _him a choice like that?"

Manwe smiled grimly. "That idiotic idea would be Eru Iluvatar's and his eternal edict that _all _creatures should be given free-will. Unfortunately Eru doesn't have to generally cope with the chaos that often results from lesser beings having too much free-will which is used ill-advisedly. He creates, he sometimes destroys and then he moves on, but we are the ones left to pick up the pieces."

Eönwë groaned in renewed despair and put his head in his hands. "This is _all_ I needed. Herumor, Morgoth prising his way out of the Void where he should not have been in the first place and sneaking back into Arda Marred, a bunch of bloodthirsty werewolves, an army of new-fangled orcs and a Fallen Angel rogue potential vessel for either good or evil. Is there any good news in amongst all that?"

"Your daughter and her companion have reached safety with Master Elrond, Glorfindel and the others in Moria." Namo's voice cut in calmly from the entrance to the garden. "I hope that is at least _some _good news among the bad?"

ooOoo

**Somewhere on the road between France and Switzerland...**

Catherine Dalton was a damn good driver. She had passed evasive manoeuvres driving tests with flying colours when she had been doing her training. She could drive a car which was being pursued and leave them standing.

Or so her advanced driving instructors at Quantico had assured her.

The problem was that she had no assurance whatsoever that Herumor would send his minions after her and Allie in a car. Catherine assumed that he wasn't because they had been driving for hours and apart from the occasional vehicle, most of which either passed her on the other side or turned off at some point to another place, the roads had been eerily empty.

It was only when she had to stop for both of them to answer the call of nature that she became aware of actually being pursued and it wasn't by any vehicle.

She had pulled into a French transport services area consisting of a garage where you could get Benzine as the Europeans called it or petrol as the Brits called it; a fairly large and busy café and, incongruously, a tourist shop where little nic nacs belonging to the region they were travelling through could be bought for an extortionate sum of money. She had parked the vehicle behind two large tourist buses, one of whom still had the driver sitting in his seat reading a newspaper. Catherine approached him to ask when the buses were leaving and the lugubrious faced driver, who smelled of sweat and garlic, shrugged like a typical Frenchman and stared at her with a spark of sexual appraisal in his small dark eyes.

At first he tried to infer that his English wasn't very good, whereupon she repeated her question in flawless French. He shrugged again and said that his passengers had only just gone into the café for lunch. Catherine deduced from this that she could safely leave the car in it's hiding place, shielded by the larger vehicles while she and Allie used the toilets and freshened up a little. She was aware of the frank admiration and lust in the man's eyes as she walked away from him.

_Just try it buster. _She thought viciously to herself. There was nothing she would have liked more than to tear the bastard a new asshole.

It was Allie, of course, who spotted the long sinuous shape skulking in the shadow of some trees. It was some distance away still and Allie couldn't detect any others so Catherine assumed that this was a scout of some kind. No doubt the werewolf didn't have any idea that it had been detected; another mistake to make considering who and what Allie was.

After she and Allie had finished in the restrooms, Catherine made a huge show of taking the little girl into the café and she knew that the watching creature would assume they were having lunch. Instead, she and the little girl slipped out of the side exit that Catherine had spotted as they had walked around to the restrooms. The buses were still in place and it meant that they could slip into their car quietly. Catherine started the engine up, did a three point turn and slowly drove the car around the back of the complex coming out beside the petrol pumps. Then she slammed her foot on the accelerator and drove onto and down the road like a bat out of hell leaving the werewolf, now in human form, standing in the middle of the road with his face contorted in rage and frustration.

Allie giggled softly at the sight and Catherine allowed herself a small grim smile, but she knew deep in her heart that the scout had already notified the rest of the pack where they were and had merely been waiting for backup. He wouldn't have attacked them in a public area without backup and was probably even now back in werewolf form eating up the distance with long, loping strides.

She consulted the Satnav device anxiously. According to the screen they were heading for Annemasse, a French border town which was four miles from Geneva. She dredged up what she could remember about French and Swiss border posts. What they needed was a small border crossing where they would not be stopped by officials, but for the life of her Catherine couldn't remember if Annemasse was one of these.

_For god's sake Catherine...think woman! _Neither she nor Allie had passports with them and being a US citizen Catherine would definitely have needed a Schengen permit since it came within the Schengen zone (1) . The last time Catherine had crossed the borders between France and Switzerland had been at least a year ago at Annecy and that crossing was more frequently unmanned than it was manned, but it was too late to take another route. In any case, their strange rescuer had been very firm about them following the instructions.

Her heart flew into her mouth as they pulled into the French town of Annemasse and neither she nor Allie really had time or the inclination to sightsee. They joined quite a long queue of vehicles who were obviously waiting to go through the customs post and this made her groan inwardly since where there was a queue there was obviously an official checking documents. Documents they didn't have.

"It'll be all right Catherine." Allie tried to reassure her. "My friend will make it all right, you'll see."

Catherine managed a tight smile for the child. She hoped against hope that Allie was right.

Finally, after about a fifteen minute wait, their car finally made the approach to the border crossing which had armed French policeman on guard duty and a dark uniformed Customs official with a clipboard waiting for them. Catherine braced herself for a argument at the very least or both her and Allie being dragged away in handcuffs at the worst. And over all that, there was a worry that if they were stopped and taken to one side, it could be the exact moment that the werewolves might fall upon them. Catherine had a vision of utter carnage as innocent passers-by, drivers, tourists, police and official alike were torn apart limb from limb as she and Allie were dragged away.

The car in front was waved on and the Customs official approached Catherine and Allie's car. As he approached he was obviously checking off their vehicle registration number against the clipboard and Catherine's heart sank into her boots as the official imperiously waved her to one side. As she drove in between the armed police and parked up, she knew that if they were going to be questioned, it would take all of her ingenuity and name-dropping to get them out of trouble.

"Madame Catherine Dalton and Mademoiselle Almare Matthews?" The official bent down to the driver's window which Catherine had rolled down. He pronounced her name as 'Katrine'. Catherine nodded, she didn't trust herself to speak.

"Ah tres bien Madame. I 'ave a message from ze British Consulate in Paris and ze Swiss authorities. You are to be escorted over ze border into Switzerland and as far as ze Great St Bernard pass. Ze Swiss police will be waiting for you on ze ozzer side. Once you reach ze pass you will travel on by yourself. Zese are my instructions." He nodded at Catherine, who stared at him stupidly, waved his hand negligently at some point behind them and two black armoured vehicles drove slowly out onto the road and waited while Catherine, who was now nearly weeping with relief, turned their car and slipped in between the two escort vehicles.

She put her head out of the window and called her thanks to the official who was, by now, checking another vehicles. He flashed her a slight smile and bent his head back down to the other car. Nobody, not even Allie this time, saw three grey sinuous shapes slither down between two ramshackle looking buildings near the border crossing.

Catherine Dalton and Allie Matthews passed over the border of France into Switzerland without incident, but Catherine knew, by some deep instinct, that if Herumor's people wanted to take them and caught up with them, it would take _much_ more than four armed police officers in two cars to stop them.

ooOoo

**The Moria dig campsite...**

"Tell me about Semjaza."

Seth, who had been enjoying a quiet glass of wine with Eönwë and Radagast while Kim and Allie slept and the others had long since retired to their rest, whatever form it took, looked over at him in query. He had rather been expecting to excuse himself to his own bed, not answer questions on the more esoteric and sensational parts of Grigori and Antediluvian history.

"What do you want to know?" He asked curiously. "I should tell you before we go further that I may not be one to ask such a question of; Joaquim, Sariel, Penemue and the others in the High Council...they knew him personally. I was born some centuries later. I can only speak of what I was taught and things others have said."

"I understand. Did you _know_ your parents?" Eönwë reached over and gently stroked a damp curl lying on his daughter's brow.

Seth sighed. He leaned over for the bottle and poured himself a liberal amount of wine, wine from Vevey, sweet with a soft undertone of herbs and honey. He held the bottle out, half expecting the Maia to refuse, but instead Eönwë gave him his glass for a refill. Seth was pleased that this wine was not laced with Haoma in any form, this was obviously going to be a long night.

"No..." Seth finally responded in a soft voice although Eönwë could clearly hear the regret in it. "That is not the Grigori way. We have so few pure blood Grigori children, great efforts are made to keep the original strain clean and without undue human influence. Only a few Grigori females came with those who left Kharsag to join the people of the plains and they held themselves aloof from human males. When the purge came they were allowed to live by Lord Anu, Lady Ninhursag herself pleaded for their lives. However when the time came for our race to disperse, those same females volunteered to stay, along with Joaquim, Sariel and the rest. It is from that stock that our breeding is done. My parents...my mother is called Demeter and she works for the North African headquarters which used to be headed by Lilieth, but is now headed by my father whose name is Shamsiel. I was taken as a baby by them and delivered to the head of the family ...Joaquim whose task it is to foster all full blood Grigori children. Not that I saw much of him. We were mostly seen to by human servitors to whom long life was bestowed and Grigori tutors. So, no, after all that, I did not really know my parents as parents. I only know them as senior family members and Council officials."

Eönwë tried to imagine how such a life must have seemed to the small child Seth had been. The Herald, of course, had no parents, but Lady Varda and Lord Manwe had stood in loco parentis for himself, his sister and his brothers in the music. He had also never actually been a child in physical form. All Maia were adult spirits who generally took on adult incarnate forms and there were only two physical products of a joining between a Maia and an incarnate being, Luthien being one of them and Almare the most recent. Luthien's Elven form had assisted the Maia spirit inside her, Allie's human side seemed to be constantly at war with her Maia side. He assumed, and Lords Irmo and Namo had confirmed, that this was because her incarnate side was human.

"Was that hard for you?" He asked sympathetically.

Seth laughed softly and shrugged. "It was all I knew, so no, it was not hard for me. I was one among a few similar Grigori children. I suppose we learned to treat each other as family and the human servitors were kind and loving. I don't believe _any_ of us suffered the want of a mother and a father, although when I look at you and your family, I do wonder what it might have been like. All of this does not make Grigori children any less precious to the family. In fact it makes them _more_ precious. Sariel's daughter, Chantal, is a very well adjusted young Grigori woman, although Joaquim sometimes feels frustrated at the fact that she is wholly invested in the modern human world. She doesn't hold with the _old _ways. Any mention of ritual, Grigori magic or science and she shuts herself off from it. She believes in technology, arts and human science, not what she calls Grigori 'mumbo jumbo'"

Seth's face creased with laughter at the visual he had just painted and Eönwë couldn't help but laugh with him. He had no trouble at all visualising Allie saying exactly the same thing once she got to her teenage years.

"So your father and mother were two of those who fell from grace all those millennia ago?" Eönwë asked.

"They were indeed, although mother tends to make light of her part in it. My father, however, is unrepentant. He firmly believes that they did what was required to help the human race develop after what had been a worldwide catastrophe. They both escaped the purge, Asradel, who you also probably met at Vevey, always had a soft spot for my mother and sent warning. They both fled with some others into what is now Turkey. It wasn't until our people began to search out others and finally approached Joaquim and Sariel that they discovered the fate of the others."

"Was Semjaza greatly feared? He sounds a little like Lord Manwe's brother, Melkor."

Kim's eyes flickered open and, still half awake, groped for her daughter's small but sturdy form. Allie grumbled under her breath and her dark eyelashes fluttered on her cheeks as Kim's arm folded tightly around her. Eönwë gently loosened Kim's grip and the child sighed and went deeper into sleep.

Seth watched them, but felt no envy. He had never felt any need to procreate at all. To him, there were others more suited to that task. He waited until Kim and Allie were sound in sleep before answering.

"I think perhaps you have been told wrongly." He said gently once he had Eonwe's attention again. "Semjaza was neither feared nor hated, nor was he what could be termed 'evil' in anyone's eyes. Joaquim tells me that he was tall and very beautiful, with hair golden like the sun and his eyes were the ever-changing blue of the skies. Rich blue in the summer, pale like ice in the winter and dark and stormy when he was passionate or when the moon came out to play. Much like your eyes really. He was beautiful as _all_ of our race are. Tall and other-worldly, as you and I are in our physical forms, although I know that you are able to change your form if you wish to. In our spiritual state and in a state of grace, so can we, but as earthbound Ainur, we cannot. Anyway, Semjaza was much loved, by both the Lord and Lady of Kharsag and the other Grigori. Loved to the point where he thought he could get away with anything and this, I suppose, was his downfall. He truly thought that he could talk Lord Anu around to accepting that the primitive humans needed more knowledge and also that the Lord would accept Semjaza's woman, the human priestess of her people, Ishtahar." Seth smiled sadly. "The truth is that we were never ever _meant_ to mate outside our kind if we mated at all, certainly our forms in the Timeless Halls were not created for the act of procreation. This is why the Annunaki, which is what we were called in ancient days, were divided into female and male genders equally. There should have been no _need_ for us to go outside our own kind for physical comfort or love."

Eönwë felt as though an almost breathless silence had settled down around them.; as though the very rocks, mountains and trees were listening to this tale. He was reluctant to even interpose anything at this point, but Seth seemed to have come to a natural pause and he felt he should at least acknowledge the story.

"And Semjaza did." He stated softly, half to himself.

"He did indeed." Seth's chuckle sounded rather hollow. "Ishtahar was a clever woman. Dark like most of her kind and it is said she was very beautiful in the way of humans. She knew that among her people women were not held up in respect. They were there to provide children and do the work. She had rapidly discovered that her path to a lifestyle freed from the demands of the men in the tribe lay in the spiritual so she made sure that she was entered into the priesthood. She had some of what a modern Wiccan might term lesser earth magicks at her disposal and she used them to good effect. Then she met Semjaza and his brethren. They came down from the Mountain of the Gods, tall, mysterious and alien in their beauty. They wore feathered cloaks woven in with iridescent feathers of the peacock. They were inhumanly strong and their knowledge was great. The Elders of tribe decided that they were messengers from the Gods. I'm sure it must have seemed to the ignorant plains people that they were indeed Gods in their own right. They noted the long serpent like features, white, red and silver hair and named them Feathered Serpents. Semjaza saw Ishtahar and found her very beautiful and she wasn't averse to lying with a tall, golden-haired 'god'...but _not_ without a price."

He stopped and took another swig of wine, grimacing as the sweetness caught at his throat. Eönwë handed him a glass of water that sat on the table between them and waited until the Grigori had cleared his throat.

"What _kind _of price?" He asked softly, not wishing to probe too hard.

Seth stared out of the window. He had been taught this story so many times and then had heard the testimony of those who had actually been there in the flesh, so to speak. Told one way, it sounded hideous, as though Semjaza was weak willed and unable to fend off the blandishments of a human woman; that he had sold the most important secret for the sake of something as basic as copulation and sexual desire.

Told another way, it would seem as though Semjaza was a hero... strong, risking death and worse for the sake of humankind, to give them the knowledge they needed to survive and grow in a harsh and bitter world. How would this Maia, a lesser Ainur, who had lived in the moralistic closed world of the Valar see Semjaza? He decided just to tell it like it was.

"The price that was given him was that she would only allow him to make love to her if he told her _all_ the secrets of the Annunaki, including the secret name used to communicate with the Source of All Things, the One, he who you call Iluvatar." Seth paused to take in the sudden shocked withdrawal in Eonwe's face. So, the Valar and Maiar _also _still kept the laws surrounding communication with the One. "He did not do so, at first, but as she held him at arm's length and in scorn. So did she seem more beautiful and more desirable with each passing day and eventually he persuaded himself that it could do no harm. She loved him and would keep the knowledge safe and to herself. He forgot that she was a priestess of her kind and could enter into shamanic trance and from there, the use of the name would allow her direct access to the One by way of the Paths of the Moon. Semjaza, blinded with desire, whispered the name to her and she gave him what he had sold himself for."

Eönwë was silent. How could he comment when he himself had submitted to a desire for a human female? His only excuse was that he hadn't actually been in Ainur form when he fell in love with her, but was there really any difference, other than he had not actually given any secrets to Kim in exchange for her love? He tried to think if he knew _anything_ that would have transgressed against Eru. There was the oath keeping of course, he did have to commune with Eru from time to time on that score, but it was _always_ done on Valinor and done in seclusion. In fact he had last communicated, or rather Eru had communicated with him, just before coming back with Kim to Moria to get Allie.

Seth watched the frenzied thoughts slide over Eonwe's open face and couldn't help a sardonic smile. It was clear that the Herald of Manwe was comparing his own situation with Semjaza. He leaned forward and laughed.

"You and Kim cannot be compared to Semjaza and Ishtahar Eönwë." He said gently. "Kim did not demand to know all the secrets of the Ainur before she gave herself to you. And indeed, it's quite clear to all of us that since Eru sent you back in mortal form as Gary Matthews, he_ did _intend for you to live a normal mortal life. It only changed because Morgoth interfered. You must remember that our kind have ever had an attraction to the females of humankind. None of us know why for sure, but for some reason we find them much more attractive than our own females. I have come to believe that it's because there are no official genders between the Ainur. When the Valar, Maiar and Annunaki came to Arda they simply took the form that made the most sense to them. For some it was female and for others it was male. Hence we have both, but underneath we know that it is a cosmetic form only. Do the Maiar who join themselves with another Maia in Valinor have children or even normal sex lives?"

Eönwë snorted with embarrassed laughter. He tried to imagine some of the espoused Maiar he knew in a family situation with bawling, cheeky, dirty toddlers like his own daughter and failed miserably. No, they did much as the un-espoused Maiar did. They carried out their duties to their respective Valar in a stately and obedient manner. Nothing ruffled or stirred the calm surface of their lives. Certainly nothing such as had disturbed his. Their calm unruffled lives would have been his had he and Arien espoused themselves to each other. Not for them would there have been the blind, exhausting, but satisfying passion in the bedroom, the sleepless nights pacing with a teething child or mundane things like grocery shopping or sitting through a movie gritting their teeth because Allie simply didn't yet realise that she couldn't run around like a lunatic in the cinema or keep her clear piping voice down so everyone else could hear the soundtrack.

He broke into soft, mildly hysterical laughter at the very notion.

"I thought not." Seth grinned at him. "The fact is that we are attracted to human females simply because they _are _human. I cannot find it in myself to judge Semjaza because he felt exactly the same way. He and his brethren might just have been fed up with the lives they were forced to live. The only thing that could have even begun to make them feel better was that differentiating between genders when it came to physical pleasure was not a common habit among the Annunaki.

Eönwë blushed to the tips of his ears when he realised what Seth was saying. "They... among the males...you mean they...?" He broke off in embarrassment.

"Sought comfort from each other?" Seth's golden brown brows, so like Eonwe's raised a little and he gave the Maia an innocent little smile. "Is this not the way among the Maiar then?"

"No!" Eönwë expostulated, he was pink with shock. "At least, I don't _believe_ so... It just never came up in conversation, but then we don't spend a lot of time in physical form in Valinor. We spend most of it carrying out our duties in fea, not fana." His voice trailed off a little. "That's probably why then, and the fact that there aren't any human females there; only the Eldar, and _their_ rules about relationships are even more stiff and set in stone than ours are."

Seth chuckled. "The Valar obviously run a tight ship over there in Wonderland. I believe that the Timeless Halls is run along similar lines, but what you have to remember is that the Grigori were left, earthbound and unable to disincarnate, among humankind. Our rules _had _to change to some degree. We could never have existed among them as long as we have without undue detection if they hadn't."

"Did _you_ ever... I mean..." Eönwë struggled to ask the question without seeming inquisitive.

Seth's brow furrowed. "Yes of course. Many times down through the centuries I have enjoyed the company of both males _and_ females."

Eönwë immediately felt ashamed for probing into something that was a very personal matter. "I'm sorry Seth." He said contritely. "I didn't mean to pry and I will not presume to judge you, it is not my place. As you have said, your situation was not the same as ours in Valinor and you were excluded from the grace of the Timeless Halls."

Seth smiled at him. "But you have asked about Semjaza and we have discussed practically everything but that. The fact is that Semjaza became something of a celebrity among the Annunaki and because he was favoured with the Lord and Lady and the Source itself, much was laid upon him and it only became clear long after he and his brethren were punished that perhaps he had _always _been destined to do what he did and that his ultimate destiny also lies here on earth rather than in the Timeless Halls. He has a path to follow and _everything_ that has happened is leading up to that. While his sundered, damaged soul still guarded the gate in the Orion star system, it was not something we gave much thought to, but now..._now_ everything is different. Nobody knows for sure what will happen. Nobody knows for sure where his soul went during Sila ag Bar. Roger Hamilton, an English police officer, changed all of that. Had the sacrifice gone according to Gregory's plan, Gregory himself would have been the vessel. Now we don't know. Hamilton persuaded us to mount a rescue attempt, Eve lived and she probably should not have. Semjaza now lives but we do not know where and therefore he is in control of his own destiny."

"Wouldn't he be in control anyway, even if you _knew_ where his soul resided?" Eönwë asked quizzically. He felt a little guilty knowing full well _who_ had possession of Semjaza's marbles as well as his own, but he had made a promise not to say anything.

"Knowing most of the the Grigori High Council the way I do?" Seth replied cheerfully. "I don't think the poor bugger would be able to take a dump without them wanting to see what it looked like. I think he would be watched like a hawk and firmly guided in the direction that they want him to go in, but I am not sure that the world would be better off in the long run for that guidance. We don't really know_ what_ will happen. He has been silent since the events in Kurdistan and there has been much concern raised by Council members that he hasn't yet shown himself to those who fell with him and remained loyal to him all those millennia ago. It is _this_ omission on his part that makes them distrust him so much. Had he come to them at the beginning, he would have found them willing to listen to him. Now..." He shrugged. "God only knows."

He got to his feet and picked up the empty bottle and glasses. "I think I should leave you now. Your lovely wife is awake and listening and you and your family should be alone together for a while." He executed a courtly little bow to Kim who smiled at him sleepily, said goodnight and left the trailer quietly.

"What was all that about?" Kim asked as Eönwë climbed onto the bunk and snuggled his wife and daughter to him.

He didn't answer for a while and it seemed to her that he had drifted into sleep. She was about to do the same when he finally spoke.

"Oh, just another whole bunch of trouble gathering on the horizon." Eönwë sounded resigned. "Let's just hope we sort out Herumor and his idiots first before the next bloody apocalypse."

"That sounds like a plan." Kim murmured and then Eönwë heard a gentle snore. His eyelids drooped and soon he joined his wife and child in slumber.

For now, all was well with his world.

ooOoo

1. **The Schengen Visa** has made travelling between its 15 European member countries much easier and less bureaucratic. Travelling on a Schengen Visa means that the visa holder can travel to any (or all) member countries using one single visa, thus avoiding the hassle and expense of obtaining individual visas for each country. This is particularly beneficial for persons who wish to visit several European countries on the same trip. The Schengen visa is a "visitor visa". It is issued to citizens of countries who are required to obtain a visa before entering Europe.

The purpose of the visit must be leisure, tourism, or business. Upon the issuance of the visa, the visa holder is allowed to enter all member countries and travel freely throughout the Schengen area. It is strongly recommended to plan your journey within the time frame of the Schengen Visa as extensions can be very difficult to obtain, thus forcing you to leave to stay in compliance with the Schengen rules and regulations. A Schengen visa allows the holder to travel freely within the Schengen countries for a maximum stay of up to 90 days in a 6 month period.


	64. The Flight

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby. Any references to the world created by Joss Whedon belong to him.**

**Author Note: **Okay, well, back to the Mines of Moria where our doughty crew are slowly rattling their way down to the lower depths along with the Dwarves. Of course no fanfic would be complete without a little angst here and there and not content with poor old Eönwë once again having a very bad time of it, we'll start the chapter with a retrospective recount of the rather harrowing events leading up to Catherine and Allie arriving at Moria.

"There he goes. One of God's own prototypes. Some kind of high powered mutant never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die."

_**-**__** Hunter S. Thompson (American Journalist and Author, 1937-2005) **_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 64 – The Flight**

**The Moria archaeological dig site...**

Seth had found it impossible to slip into sleep after his conversation with Eönwë. He sensed that the Maia _truly _didn't understand the nature of the Ainur to which he belonged. Seth didn't doubt that Eönwë had seen his fair share of death and war, after all he had been there when Melkor destroyed the lamps and plunged primitive Middle-earth into darkness, but in the rarefied, protective atmosphere of Valinor the Valar had apparently not encouraged either he or his fellow Maiar to explore the darkness that which lay inside _all _of them whether the Valar wished to admit it or not. In that they were no different to the mortals they watched over on behalf of Eru.

The Music from which they had all sprung, pure at first, soon altered as other, sometimes discordant melodies were added. A discordance that Eru had tried to counter by adding other strains of pure melody to harmonise with the discordance and turn it to the clean beautiful flow, but to no avail. Other harsher notes crept into the perfection and after a while Eru decided to allow these notes as the granting of free will. _Some_ Ainur were deeply affected by this and found they could not hold onto the original notes. They found themselves being trapped in the discordance. It was how beings like Melkor managed to corrupt, by tapping into that darkness and discordance.

Others were strong enough to resist and remained true to the original notes. Eönwë had been one of these and had always fought on the side of light. He had always served Manwe Sulimo directly and because of that, the darkness had always slithered away from him, back into the shadows. Even despite the death and dimming of the light in Valinor when Melkor encouraged Ungoliant to drain the Two Trees, Valinor had remained a peaceful protected place and so there had been no need for anyone to explore that part of themselves.

Humankind had a very strange view of what 'heaven' is like. Scientists might have understood heaven as they called the Timeless Halls, to be in another dimension, hence why people tended to point upwards when they referred to it; a dimension which lay across the normal Earth dimension, but unseen by humans. It was to that dimension which Valinor was summarily brought after the sundering of that realm from Arda itself, so in essence, Valinor was part of the Timeless Halls.

Seth could see quite plainly that Eönwë only half understood the difference between the Maiar and the Annunaki, those who had been sent to watch over the world after it stumbled blindly out of the thick, grinding, mind-numbing ice. Eru's edict to them had been clear. They were to guide only. The knowledge that mankind's forebears had gained for themselves under the more liberal guidance of a group of what were nothing more than absentee landlords in the form of the Valar was not to be given to those who crawled out from the mud and dirt of the reborn drying landscape of new Middle-earth. Such knowledge was forbidden. Even something as simple as the exchange of names by Watcher to human was forbidden. The Watchers were there to prevent the usage of magicks, no matter how basic, and guide humankind to a simpler way of life, unfettered by the monsters which had been spawned at the beginning of Arda Marred. They were supposed to learn from the mistakes of those who had gone before. It was supposed to be the beginning of the un-marring of Arda.

And if it hadn't been for Semjaza, filled with a burning desire to enlighten humanity and experience something other than the careful artifice and political atmosphere of Kharsag, it might well have worked. And now, because of the meddling of the Anakim, Peter Gregory as he called himself, Semjaza was back and_ nothing_ had changed. There had been talk among the powerful heads of the Grigori family about creating a Partzufim, a Godhead, rather than the Grigori High Council, but that had come about because it was believed that Semjaza had returned. He would have headed the Partzufim and Joaquim would have been relegated to a lesser role, not that Joaquim would have cared. Now Semjaza was conspicuous by his absence and such talk had dissipated. Yet it still hung around like a giant question mark over everything.

A brief stab of anger thrust its way into his gut. His fist curled around the squat whisky glass and he tossed the dregs down his throat, luxuriating in the warmth of the liquor as it seared its way down his throat and created a bloom of fire in his chest. He laughed cynically to himself...liquors like this were the ingenious invention of an 'enlightened' mankind and they did their work exceedingly well.

He rose impatiently to his feet and propped the trailer door open with a boot. Dear heaven it was very hot in the trailer. It was only when he realised that there was no cold breeze wafting through the opening that it wasn't just his trailer that was overheated. After the dramatic events the previous morning, the atmosphere had still not settled down. He sat down on the trailer steps and dialled Joaquim's private line at Vevey. He knew that the Head of the Council would still be awake and now was as good a time to make his report as any. The Grigori High Council sat in session later in the day and they would want to know what went down and more importantly, who was responsible for it. Better to give a verbal report now. In any case, talking about it would help him to remember the details better.

ooOoo

**In the early hours of the previous morning...**

A gibbous moon rose heavily in the sky over the mountain once known as Caradhras. It etched the snow-capped, saw-tooth peak against an deep indigo sky. The pale violet clouds were outlined in sulphur-yellow and there was a smell of ozone ...a tangy male scent almost tangibly hanging in the air presaging the beginnings of a thunderstorm

Caradhras even in modern times was not the most sociable of mountain peaks. In the summertime when the snow was limited to the very top of the peak and did not travel down to the lower slopes until the wintertime, the temperatures in and around the area of the mountain ranged from mild to very cold, depending on how high one climbed. Only the modern marvels of engineering, lighting and underground heating systems kept the tunnel of the Great St Bernard Pass clear for driving purposes. Very occasionally the temperatures were cold enough even to surpass those feats of engineering and once in a while the pass was closed until the weather became more clement. However those times were few and far between.

One thing that the mountain and the surrounding areas did not usually suffer from was stifling heat more attributable to hotter climes than high in the Swiss mountains.

It could have been the heat that stopped more than a few people from sleeping properly, but in at least two cases, it was not so much the heat but the memories it stirred up, both recent and past.

ooOoo

Professor Richard Hallam was dreaming about the sacred cave of the Grigori in the heights of Northern Kurdistan. He was following a long length of bandage similar to those used in wrapping mummies down a long tunnel with shining black obsidian walls and lit with torchlight. The fitful light from the torches flickered across the shining, glass-liked wall and threw deep intricate carvings on the walls into sharp relief.

He was dripping with sweat and he kept using the ever growing folds of long thin bandage to mop it away from his forehead and as he walked he was horribly aware that something stalked behind him; a hideous something that flickered at the corners of his vision. The rational part of his sleeping brain told him to wake up. The part of his mind that was immersed in his own personal nightmare was urging his legs to move faster, but for some reason he wasn't able to.

Something was coming, or had it already been?

He reached the end of the bandages and, in the way of all dreams, he found that the wrappings simply dissolved away leaving only a humped form lying on the floor of the tunnel. His conscious brain knew _exactly_ who it was meant to be, the body of one of his research assistants who had been killed while excavating in the tunnels during his very first visit to the caverns which he believed were the ritual places for an unknown race. His unconscious brain manifested the form, now struggling to its feet in a most terrifying, staccato and unnatural fashion, as something that shouldn't be moving at all in any shape or form in the first place.

Hallam watched in growing horror as the figure snapped its own broken joints back into place, a jerky action which was transformed into something even more horrible by the grotesque reflection of its flickering shadow on the walls of the tunnel.

And then it turned to face him.

A sob slipped from the side of Hallam's slack mouth as he saw the full horror of the boy's ruined face. It didn't help when the boy lifted a twisted hand up to push the badly dislocated jaw back into place with a sharp crack of bone against bone. Not that this action improved his looks any, but it at least made the jaw come together so that he could enunciate.

"You think it's all over don't you? You are a foolish meddling old man and I am going to EAT you. I am going to tear your limbs off and crack you open like a fine, fine lobster. I'm going to suck out the white meat and leave you in cracked pieces. You have NO idea what's to come, do you? You stupid, ignorant creature."

The dead research assistant spoke in a sinister, lisping whisper which was accompanied by a series of small clicking and grating noises as a tongue and mouth long since past the ability to speak or move normally struggled with speech.

Hallam shrank against the wall, his brain had frozen into place inside his skull. He couldn't have answered even had he managed to un-cleave his tongue from the roof of his mouth. The hot, rotting meat breath of the creature or creatures that had been hard on his heels all the way down the tunnel was now searing the side of his face. He didn't dare turn his head to see what it was. Everything in his brain was jumbled up except for the one scream of warning and terror which came directly from his very soul...

Don'tlookdon'tlookDON'TLOOK!

A roll of thunder and a crack of lightning lit up the tunnel and Richard Hallam woke up with a cry of terror on his lips, lathered in sweat and shivering as though the temperature was below freezing point. Notwithstanding, he staggered out of bed and stumbled haphazardly down the steps of his trailer. He only just managed to keep the presence of mind to grab one of the padded safety jackets hanging outside. His only coherent thought was to get out into the fresh night air.

ooOoo

Seth had not been quite asleep when the sensation of impending doom hit him. He had just slipped into that half-sleep, under the surface of consciousness when an urgent summons stabbed through him, catapulting him out of bed to stand naked and trembling in the dimly lit trailer. There was an ominous heaviness in the air...and a feeling of terror about to be unleashed.

He reached out for the glass of water he always kept by the bedside and downed in in one long swallow. The air was positively crackling with anticipation, but of what?

Puzzled, he dressed swiftly, automatically strapped his shoulder holster on and stepped out of the trailer and onto the road where Thranduil, Glorfindel, Elrond and Hal Kenwood hovered in a small group staring anxiously out across the valleys.

"Did you ever see _anything_ like this sky?" Hal's cheerful Transatlantic accent washed over Seth as he reached the group. The American waved his hand at the skyline. "Bitch of a storm incoming."

Seth watched the dark red and purple, yellow etched clouds as they roiled fitfully in the dark night sky. He smelled the ozone laden air and felt a thin sheen of sweat of remembrance spring out across his skin.

"Yes." He said in a harsh tone which made them all look at him in surprise. "I _have_ seen something like it before. Something's happening out there. We need to be ready."

As if by magic or some silent summons, the remaining Kerubim appeared out of the shadows and positioned themselves across the road. For some strange reason, the rest of the dig staff slumbered on in their trailers, completely unaffected by the approaching storm.

Elrond grasped Seth by the arm. "Seth! What's happening? We've been waiting for Eonwe's daughter and the mortal woman ever since we had news that were on their way here. They should have been here _hours_ ago. We were just debating what to do."

"They _are _on their way here." Seth replied grimly. "And they are not alone, they are being pursued."

Thranduil stared at Seth from under hooded eyelids. "What do we do? Should we take the car and go out to meet them?"

Seth shook his head. "We would never get to them in time. They are still some miles away from here."

Elrond's face crumpled slightly. "But we cannot stand here and do nothing about it! We can't leave them alone there with nobody to help them."

"They won't be alone." Seth responded grimly. His mobile phone rang insistently, the number that showing was from Vevey and he moved away to take the call quietly.

Elrond lifted his shoulders in a helpless shrug as he walked back to the other three. Radagast came over to them, Richard Hallam stumbled out of his trailer and made his way over to them and they all watched in trepidation as lightning speared through the bubbling, angry clouds and stabbed the earth on the horizon.

ooOoo

**On the road to the Great St Bernard Pass**

"We're going to get a storm." Catherine muttered half to herself. She really didn't expect Allie to answer her or even listen, the child beside her had fallen into a restless sleep. She wished she could do the same.

Outside the vehicle the few fields they travelled through lay still, with steam from the surrounding heat slowly dissipating into the dark early morning air. A huge full moon hung over them like a spotlight and seemed to be glued to the same path, although Catherine realised how fanciful that would have sounded to most of her colleagues in the CIA. To them the moon was something they needed to avoid since it provided light when they needed darkness to cover their tracks or their covert doings.

Realistically she knew that the moon only _seemed_ to be following them because they were travelling directly east as it travelled west. Soon the moon would move beyond them and the road ahead wouldn't be lit up like a lazy strobe light.

Flickers here and there out of the corner of her eye may or may not have been the long sinuous wolf shapes that had dogged their flight through France. After a few more miles had been devoured by the powerful vehicle it was more difficult to tell because the mountains were beginning to crowd around them like spectators in a huge amphitheatre and the terrain had changed from open land to rock, sometimes sheer and difficult to scale. The road spooled on in front of them, gradually going upwards and now they occasionally found themselves driving through narrow gullies with looming crags on either side. Once through the gulley, Catherine often had to slam the brakes because once out the other side, there were only looming crags on one side. On the other there was a sheer drop into the valley below.

She had no idea whether the werewolves could leap from rock to rock and follow them, but eventually it seemed to her that they had left their pursuers standing. At least for the moment.

Another winding road, clinging desperately to the side of a mountain and empty of traffic at that hour of the morning, led them down to a wide valley. They had passed over yet another small Alpine mountain range. Catherine wondered if she dared stop for a nature break. She glanced in the rear view mirror and saw the road behind them was empty of any kind of life. Perhaps they should stop further down the mountain, at the beginning of the valley. After all at least there she could put her foot down. Coming down the hairpin bends at extreme speed was not the best idea, not unless she wanted to take herself and her charge straight into a decaying orbit off the side of a cliff.

As the car left the torturous mountain road and sped along the straighter valley road, she peered out of the front windscreen for somewhere suitable to stop. They were now briefly heading north east, travelling to pick up the road to Martigny which would ultimately lead them to the Great St Bernard Pass.

The surrounding countryside had once comprised the area called Hollin in the days of Middle-earth, a wide expanse of open green meadow-land dotted with clumps of hardy deciduous trees and conifers. Occasionally fields had been fenced off and planted, but for the most part there were few habitations and therefore few people around. Even less than there normally would be at this time of day. Catherine had been hoping against hope that they would find a village where she could stop amidst street lights, but most of the farms and small houses seemed isolated from each other by distance.

Finally, they came to what looked like a natural lay-by. It sloped gently off road leaving an island of thick vegetation in between them and the road.

"I guess this is as good a place as any." Catherine hopped out of the vehicle, leaving Allie sound asleep in the front. She unzipped her jeans and grimaced as the sour smell of sweat insulted her nostrils. It had been three days since they had been taken. She hadn't either washed or showered in that time. That Annatar guy had mentioned something about wipes, but she cursed roundly when she realised that they were still in the glove compartment of the car. And she with her trousers around her knees and her bare arse exposed to the elements. She would just have to manage with the scrap of tissue she found in her jeans' pocket.

A roll of thunder and distant crack of lightning caused her to fumble with her zip. The unusual heat they had been experiencing was obviously heralding a storm. She ran to the car just as another roll of thunder bounced off the surrounding mountains and rolled across the valley. That one was _much_ closer. She wrenched the car door open and as she did so, she dropped the keys which rolled a little way under the car.

"_Damn._...fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Allie's eyelids flickered open on the last word and Catherine immediately slid down, stuck her arm underneath the car and groped around with her hand. That way she would at least avoid yet_ another _spooky adult lecture on naughty words from Allie. After a few moments of frantic thrashing around, her fingers located the metal keys.

"Aha!" She pulled herself to her feet triumphantly; the keys hung from her index finger. "Am I good or am I _good?_"

She was just about to open the car door again and climb in when a stab of lightning split the bruised sky and struck the ground. It lit up the entire area in sharp relief and in that uncompromising silver blue light she saw them. The creatures from her nightmares. The Lycans had arrived and they were surrounded. Her breath was sucked from her body and she collapsed weakly against the car.

"Get in the car Catherine." Allie's voice sounded strangely adult and Catherine bent down and stared inside the car. The person who looked back at her appeared to be a grown up version of Allie and she could see just how beautiful the Brigadier's child was going to be, if she survived. "Catherine, you _must_ get in the car now." Allie repeated and this time she leaned across, gripped the CIA agent by her wrist and pulled her into the car with surprising force.

"_Drive_."

"But..." Catherine fumbled with the keys and finally got them inserted. In her haste and horror she put the vehicle in reverse instead of forward. She remedied that and the car juddered as it tried to obey the conflicting instructions. She threw a terrified look at the row of silent Lycans. "We're surrounded, we'll never make it. What are they waiting for?"

"They don't think we will try to escape." Grown-up Allie said calmly. "They don't believe you will try to drive them down. Something is coming, something not very nice at all and we need to leave..._NOW!"_

Catherine let out a little bleat of fear, the Lycans might well be quite right, driving into a solid wall of flesh, bone and muscle might not be enough to punch a hole in it.

And then the noises began.

At first she thought it was just the protestations of the car as she desperately pulled away. There was a metallic grinding and crashing noise, as if huge metal wheels were turning somewhere all around her. It took her a few seconds to realise that the noises were coming from outside the vehicle and that the Lycans were as taken aback by it as she was. They milled around uncertainly, their attention was no longer wholly on Catherine and Allie. Their huge shaggy nightmare heads were turned upwards to the skies instead. The thunder rolled, the lightning skewered the ground around them, and then came the lights. Bright stabs of silver, red and blue. It was like being inside a migraine headache.

"Oh my _god_." Catherine sobbed. "What in _hell's _name is going on?"

The car had sputtered to a halt, she peered out of the front windscreen as a huge dark shadowy thing with what looked like wings and which had a narrow human face out of which flickered a fiery serpent's tongue flashed in front of the car. She was almost at breaking point and in the process of huddling down on the floor of the car to hide when Allie's hand whipped out and gripped hers with the strength of finely tempered steel.

"Catherine..._listen _to me." Catherine ventured a look upwards. Allie was looking calmly down at her. "You need to drive on.._.now_..."

"But...but...those things..." Catherine whimpered, however she slid back onto the seat and clutched the steering wheel with both hands for support.

She yelped in alarm as one of the Lycans bounded in front of the car, long arms stretched out, claws flexed, ready to launch itself at the window. A second later, there was a flash of blood red light and all that was left was a smoking patch where the Lycan had been before. She threw the car into drive and slammed her foot on the accelerator. The car shot forward and onto the main road in a spurt of gravel which rattled along the metal flank of the vehicle. The wheels in the sky ground like gigantic metal teeth or huge metal fingernails scraping across a chalkboard, the bright lights speared the sky and Catherine sobbed under her breath as the car gained purchase on the road and sped forward.

She glanced up at the rear view mirror only to find that Allie had also reached up and literally wrenched the metal out of its housing.

"There are some things in this world you are not meant to see, Catherine, and _they_ are one of them." There was a slightly sardonic note in Allie's voice. "Drive and do not look back, _whatever_ you do."

They reached the road up to the Great St Bernard Pass just as dawn tinged the violent, bloody sky. Somewhere half way up the pass Catherine realised that they were no longer alone and that Allie was grown up no longer, but a three year old child curled up on the front seat of the car with one chubby thumb firmly in her rosebud mouth. Overhead she heard the chattering of helicopters, a sound which followed her up until she reached the group standing waiting for them just outside the entrance to the dig. She realised that they were being escorted and felt nauseous with relief.

"Uncle Elrond!" Allie bounced and squeaked in her seat as Catherine pulled into the side of the road and halted the car. She leaned over to undo the seat belt with still trembling hands, but a handsome man with long dark hair had already opened the door and was lifting the child out.

"I've got her Miss Dalton." His voice was warm and golden. His beautiful grey eyes and smile were merry and Catherine burst into tears. "Welcome to Moria! My name is Elrond Earendilion."

They had made it to safety.

ooOoo

**Details of a phone call between Seth and Grigori HQ, Vevey**

"_You _didn't summon them?"

"We thought _you_ did." Joaquim's tone was one of carefully concealed alarm.

Seth stared at the mobile phone for a moment as if it was going to bite him. "Well if _you _didn't and _I_ didn't...who did? Catherine and Allie would not have escaped had it not been for the Holy Hayyoth arriving in such a timely fashion."

There was a bit of a silence on the other end and then Joaquim's smooth tones were replaced by Sariel.

"It would seem that the Herald of Manwe's little daughter has friends in high places." He quipped and Seth managed a weak laugh.

"It would seem so indeed. Can you put Joaquim back on Sariel? I was in the middle of reporting to him so that he could speak at the Council meeting this afternoon."

Sariel chuckled. "I would love to, but I think he's in the middle of the vapours. He's gasping and flapping his hand at me like a landed fish." Everything went muffled as though Sariel had put his hand across the receiver. "Seth? Joaquim says it's fine or something like that, It's difficult to tell. He says he's heard enough."

There was the sound of a struggle during which the mobile phone went dead. Seth looked at it and sure enough it rang a few seconds later.

"Seth? It's Joaquim. Sorry about that. I think I have enough to brief the Council with. Of course we cannot rule out the possibility that Eönwë himself summoned them or maybe even the Valar, although we did not think that the Valar or the Maiar were given that ability. When Eönwë arrives at Moria, as he will in a few hours, ask him to call me would you?"

"I will." Seth promised and switched the phone off. He stood tapping the phone against his chin thoughtfully. Thranduil grabbed his arm as he went past.

"We're all grabbing an early breakfast, nobody can sleep for the heat and Miss Dalton and young Allie are hungry. Are you going to join us?"

"Hmm?" Seth looked at him for a moment and then smiled. "Oh indeed I am. Wouldn't miss it for the world!" He murmured.

The matter of who summoned the Holy Hayyoth, the Kerubim of the Timeless Halls, to intervene and purge the area, thereby allowing Almare Matthews and her companion to escape, would just have to wait for the moment.

ooOoo


	65. Repercussions

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby. Any references to the world created by Joss Whedon belong to him.**

**Author Note: **One of the things that I should explain in my particular fic-verse is that although the Watchers were sent from the Timeless Halls by Eru (God) to guide mankind, they went to earth into the cradle of civilisation between the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers in a _physical _form. Some of their abilities as Ainur were stripped from them. Abilities such as being able to disincarnate as the Valar, Maiar and other Ainur do. Instead of this ability and in order to communicate with Eru they were able to enter a trance state and traverse what they called the Paths of the Moon which took them in spiritual form back to the Timeless Halls. The Watchers who fell from grace and survived the purge of the Seraphim became earthbound and lost that ability as did those who chose to remain behind when Kharsag was dismantled.

Their stronghold was built high up in the mountains of Northern Iraq on the borders of Kurdistan. It consisted of a secret inner stronghold which held the houses, inner sanctums, libraries, laboratories and the huge greenhouse structures which were necessary for their agronomy programmes. It also held an observatory for looking at the stars and the whole area was then surrounded by terraced gardens which held every single plant and crop created on the planet.

There were pleasant garden walks through beautiful gardens filled with plants which ranged from the simple weed up to the most rare exotic orchid. Water cascaded down the terraces and constantly watered the plants. The water was drawn up from the lake down in the valley below via a series of pumps and pipes and then recycled down the terraces. It was caught in channels which flowed into other narrow channels between which the orchards grew in order to water the many fruit and nut trees and ordinary trees of all species.

The whole of the stronghold of Kharsag was a gigantic scientific experiment and it was staffed with Watchers who had knowledge of all the sciences. Lord Anu and Lady Ninhursag were the Lord and Lady of Kharsag and in overall charge. They drew selected humans from the tribes in the plains below and brought them up as what they called servitors and because humans are very short-lived compared to the Watchers, they granted to them temporary longevity. They also studied humankind in an effort to better understand them and their differences.

The Watchers themselves were not concerned with gender differentiation in their relationships. To them it made no difference since they weren't reliant on procreation to extend and build their population. If they sought comfort, they simply sought it from each other as the desire took them and it didn't matter to them whether that person was male or female as long as they were willing. It simply wasn't relevant as far as they were concerned, they weren't driven to procreate, but they did have physical bodies and therefore needs. In the Timeless Halls in their original form, they are asexual, like their brethren. Of course to someone like Eönwë and those from Valinor it would seem quite shocking, since the laws of mating and marriage are quite strict among that society.

"**Angel**: I helped save the world, you know.

**Spike**: Like I haven't. 

**Angel**: Yeah, but I've done it a lot more. 

**Spike**: Oh, please.

**Angel**: Closed the Hellmouth. 

**Spike**: I've done that.

**Angel**: Yeah, but you wore a necklace. You know, I helped kill the Mayor, and uhm... Jasmine. 

**Spike**: Do those really count as saving the world?

**Angel**: I stopped Acathla. That saved the world.

**Spike**: Buffy ran you through with a sword. 

**Angel**: Yeah, but I made her do it. Signalled her with my eyes. 

**Spike**: She killed you. I helped her. That one counts as mine."

_**-**__** Angel The Series (The Girl in Question)**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 65 - Repercussions**

**England, two days earlier...**

The heady scent from the incense burning in copper dishes did not completely mask the earthy dampness of the cellar. In truth it wasn't an unpleasant smell, it was a reminder that the from the earth is born many things and, once their lifespan was done, it is to there that those things returned.

Four tall white candles representing the four elements, earth, air, fire and water, stood alight at each corner of a massive star which stretched virtually from wall to wall and was etched out in the earth by small white stones. In the middle of the star was a circle, etched out by more of the same white stones. A silver dish with a pomegranate on it sat just outside the circle and alongside that a sheaf of corn tied with a blue silk ribbon and a tall goblet of dark red wine laced with a mixture of herbs designed aid deep trance.

Rich tapestries depicting scenes from the garden of Eden were hung along the stone walls of the cellar disguising discolouration from the previous neglect of the place. It had taken a long time to clear the cellar and treat the walls so that the dampness wouldn't invade the tapestries which were old and easily damaged.

At one end of the room in front of a tapestry showing a beautiful dark-haired maiden dressed in blue diaphanous robes wearing a crown of woven corn, flowers and the bitter herb men called Soma on her dusky curls, stood a small bronze statuette on a small polished wood table. Experts would probably have classified it as of Sumerian origin and the subject matter of the piece certainly bore that out. For the figure was that of Ishtahar...earth mother and goddess, the subject of invocations, petitions and prayers for thousands upon thousands of ancient Sumerians millennia ago and a deity recognised by many modern day worshippers as the Mother Goddess. It was to her, the Lightbringer which was only one of the names by which she was known, that libations were made. She was the Sumerian Goddess of fertility, love and war for her kind.

She was also the first human lover of the inhuman Watcher Semjaza who fell from grace.

However, it was not to her, the Goddess of the Sumerians, that petition was being made this dark night. This time it was to a higher source of power, one who acknowledged Ishtahar's place in the grand scheme of things, but who was so high above her that she became minuscule, a mere tiny thread in the weave and waft of the Universe.

A tall, slender white-robed figure lay within the circle, arms and legs stretched out to the very edges of the circles in supplication. His hair, golden like the sun and woven with small golden sheaves of corn, iridescent feathers and small beads of lapis lazuli, spread around him like a rich glowing cloak. He lay quite still, quietly gathering his strength and such power as he still had within him. He had no fear that he would be interrupted, the other members of the household were far away on a visit to relatives.

The vision of his wife momentarily rose in front of him. She was very afraid of him these days and he regretted this deeply. She said she did not know him any more and although he felt a deep spurt of anger well up inside him at her words, he knew that he could not in all conscience blame her, through her eyes he must seem alien...inhuman even. The truth was that he hardly even knew himself now, but soon the time would come and it would be _his_ time. Until then he had promises to honour which he had made in good faith. He therefore firmly pushed away the regret, the confusion and the wisps of unspoken fear that hung around the house these days and focussed deep within himself.

Once he had established the calm necessary for the petition he was about to make, he rose gracefully from the prone position and knelt down instead. He spoke words long since forgotten in this world in a low compelling voice and as he did so he broke open the pomegranate and poured some of the juice and seeds over the sheaf of corn, which was his ancient symbol. The rest he ate and washed down with the red wine, licking the rich pomegranate juice from long, attenuated fingers. Then he slipped off the robe and settled back in a crossed legged position, very similar to the Eastern Lotus, and sank into a deep meditative state.

If anyone had been watching they would have only seen him sitting quite naked and motionless, eyes closed, head thrown back so that the loose golden fall of his hair hung down his back and provided his only garment. For him, however, the room had become a vast, soft blue and golden feathered warmth...a shining nest for a shining serpent. He focussed in on himself and visualised a great eye, deep blue and unblinking and as the herbs in the wine took effect he felt a slight pull as his spirit form left his physical body and hurtled towards the blue eye until it engulfed him completely. Now he was surrounded by a calm blue ocean which gradually darkened the higher he went until it glowed indigo. It was as if the universe itself was flying past him; constellations, planets, nebulae, he tumbled and spun through them all as though they were as insubstantial as a filmy net curtain.

He flew faster and faster, wild exhilaration took the place of the initial dry, desiccating fear. It had been a very long time since he had last experienced this flight. On and on he spiralled, his very soul alight with a heady mixture of fear, tears, laughter and joy until he encountered the path he sought just ahead of him; a wide, sparkling silver ribbon; a silver pathway, and then he began to lose speed. He panicked for a moment, feeling himself begun to fall, but it was only for a moment. The impetus sent him spinning back on his journey through time and space but instead of the sensation of flight, he was now rolling out of control like a boat that had lost its rudder. His spiritual form tumbled over and over until his feet finally met solidity.

Suddenly, there in front of him was a large bright crystal celestial gate. Once upon a time a sundered, tortured and anguished soul had hung in front of it in an attitude of eternal punishment as a warning to those who transgressed the word of the Source of All Power, but that soul had since been restored and now the gate appeared to be left quite unguarded. _He_ knew it was not. He flung himself on his face until his position matched the one of physical supplication in the cellar.

As he began to sing the forbidden chants, he was aware of immense power building up behind the gate.

Something was coming.

He only hoped it would be in time to save the child and her companion.

ooOoo

**The Moria archaeological dig site...**

The largest trailer at the dig had the purpose of being a conference room. It had all the latest technology, including communications to allow the archaeologists to confer better with their colleagues around the world. It even had a small kitchen which even now was filled the brim with two chefs and two kitchen assistants who were preparing food for a very important meeting to be held that day. Many of the attendees were already seated. Orgrim had arrived with young Arras in two; they were accompanied by Celebrimbor who had been spending a lot of time helping his favourite people explore and clean out a lot of the areas in Moria with the help of Seth's Kerubim.

Thranduil, Glorfindel, Elrond and Hal Kenwood were seated at the end of the long oval shaped table, they had already helped themselves to liberal amounts of coffee, tea and orange juice that one of the kitchen assistants had put on the serving tables around the side of the room.

Eönwë, Seth, Radagast and Professor Hallam were conspicuous by their absence, they were outside awaiting the attendees coming from Vevey. An air of expectancy hovered around everyone, this would be the first time any of them had met the most ancient of Grigori, those who fell from grace with Semjaza and were now members of the High Council.

Draugluin had excused himself from the meeting and headed back down to the valley accompanied by Elladan. He wanted to see for himself that none of the werewolves had survived the encounter with the Holy Hayyoth.

Kim sat to one side chatting quietly with Catherine Dalton. She held her daughter on her knee and for once Allie was quite quiet. It seemed that she knew instinctively when she should behave well.

The door of the trailer opened and all eyes turned expectantly in that direction, but it was only Maedhros, Maglor and Joshua.

Maedhros came over to Kim while Maglor and Joshua ambled over to the Elves. "Shall I take her?" He asked.

Kim's first instinct was to hold on to her daughter and not allow anyone to take her away, but she knew that this wasn't the right thing to do. "If she'll come to you Maedhros, she's had a frightening couple of days." She bent down to Allie who was sucking her thumb again. Kim sighed and went to remove it, but Catherine leaned over.

"She did that all the way from the vineyard Mrs Matthews. I think it gave her comfort, I don't think that leaving it be for a few days will hurt. Kids usually have a way of dealing with bad stuff. I think the thumb sucking might be the least of it."

Kim bit her lip. Allie _was _unusually quiet and she sensed that once they got her home a lot of her fear would manifest itself in some understandable bad behaviour. Catherine had the right of it, why make a rod for her own back before she needed to?

"You're right." She smiled at Catherine. "And it's Kim please." Allie tugged at her mother's arm. "What is it poppet?"

"Want to go with Uncle Madie." Allie looked hopefully at her mother who gave in and grinned at Maedhros.

"Looks like she's all yours."

Allie eagerly held her arms up and a a few minutes later was settled securely in the cradle of Maedhros's arms. A few more minutes later she was sleeping peacefully while Maedhros and the others automatically adjusted their conversation level so as not to disturb her.

"So...Elves?" Catherine's calm tones interrupted Kim's thoughts as she watched her daughter settle down in the former Kinslayer's arms with complete trust.

Kim chuckled. "You look a bit like I must have looked when I first landed in Beleriand during the War of Wrath. I remember the first time I saw them.

Catherine stared at the group of Elves, humans and now dwarves. "And dwarves too."

"Ah, well you've got me there." Kim followed Catherine's gaze. "I've never met a real dwarf before, but they _feel _right. I've learned to listen to my instincts these days."

"And the Brigadier is a higher being?" Catherine pursued her subject with the ruthless intent of a secret service agent trying to get at the truth.

"Yep."

Catherine raised her eyebrows. "Yep? That's it? " She giggled. "You married an angel and you're so calm about it."

Kim rolled her eyes and then also giggled. "You make it sound so easy. I should say that I didn't _know_ he was an angel until afterwards and we've had our ups and downs, believe me. Wait until you meet Sariel and the others, then you're _really_ going to think you've lost your last marble."

Catherine glanced around the room. "So where _is _the big guy?"

"He, Professor Hallam and Seth have gone to meet the Vevey people." Kim got up. "I think I might have some of that tea before that greedy lot drink it all and _ooh_...there are biscuits _and_ doughnuts. Yum! Do you want some?"

Catherine looked over to where the arrival of biscuits and doughnuts were being consumed at the same rate that a swarm of locusts would destroy a field full of crops. "Good luck with that. They're acting as though they haven't been fed for months."

The kitchen assistant had come out of the kitchen and obviously decided the same. He disappeared back into the kitchen and came out a few seconds later with a plate of assorted biscuits and doughnuts which he brought over to the two women.

"Ooh, you are a star." Kim squeaked with delight.

The young man smiled at her. "Can I get you ladies some tea or coffee?"

"Are you married?" Catherine demanded with a smile. The young man blushed and laughed and went to fetch a tray with coffee and tea and some mugs which he put in front of them.

Kim glanced anxiously over at her daughter, but she needn't have worried. Allie was still fast asleep while Maedhros accepted a mug of tea from Elrond who sat down and started to chat with him. Celebrimbor was busy introducing Orgrim and Arras to Maglor and Joshua. Thranduil was deep in conversation with Hal Kenwood and Glorfindel.

ooOoo

Meanwhile, outside in the parking area, or rather the road leading into the pass which was now a parking area, Eönwë, Seth, Radagast and Professor Hallam were awaiting the arrival of Joaquim and the other members of the High Council. The Vevey party, travelling in two SUVs had been spotted by keen eyes a couple of minutes earlier driving up the lower part of the road. Richard Hallam was still standing squinting at the road.

"You people and your eagle eyesight." He mourned. "I can't see a bloody thing...oh wait...sunlight reflecting off a windscreen. I can see something now."

"Thank the great Shem for that." Seth muttered under his breath. "It's taken me most of the morning to explain that Eve and his grandson_ won't _be with Sariel."

Eönwë and Radagast snorted with laughter. "Perhaps we should have left him fighting the others for the biscuits in the conference room." Radagast suggested slyly.

"Yeah, nice idea." Seth sounded resigned. "But as head of the dig, which is being sponsored by Grigori Enterprises of whom his son in law is a senior member, I don't think I would have had much luck persuading him not to be here as part of the reception committee."

The first of the vehicles crested the top of the road and headed for the small reception committee. Eönwë could see Sariel's white-blond head in the front. A young looking dark haired Grigori was driving.

"And there they are." He said quietly.

"Show time!" Seth grimaced at them and started to walk towards the vehicle which was now being parked up. They followed him.

Seconds later Richard Hallam was enfolded in a bear hug from his tall, stunningly beautiful son in law.

"How's my daughter and grandson?" The Professor demanded and Sariel grinned down at him affectionately.

"Beautiful and teething _and _cranky, both of them, in that order. Eve is annoyed with me because I'm escaping the floor pacing in the middle of the night."

Eönwë watched as Seth and Joaquim greeted each other. He realised very quickly that although they exchanged formal greetings, there was a more intimate note to the lightly clasped arms and the warm eye contact. There was obviously something between them that was not platonic. He mentally shrugged. It made no real difference really, it didn't change who they were and was then amazed that he dismissed the initial misgivings about the Grigori relationship thing so quickly.

"Getting used to it yet?" Radagast murmured as he walked past Eönwë to greet the newcomers, which he did as old friends. Eönwë flushed bright red and followed him.

ooOoo

Eönwë stood at the head of the table with Seth and Richard Hallam and watched as the Grigori filed in and were quickly seated. He watched with amusement at the awe in which these tall, very alien looking beings were being held by everyone there, even those who were used to Seth and the other Kerubim. It was easy to believe, looking at these tall beautiful men, that they were indeed angels having fallen straight from heaven. He couldn't quite suppress a giggle when he saw Sariel seat himself beside Orgrim and Arras and then proceed to engage in conversation with the Naugrim Elder. He watched with satisfaction as Orgrim shook hands with the Grigori former Archangel and appeared to be more than holding his own. Celebrimbor also leaned over and joined in the conversation.

The Grigori has already obviously decided beforehand that they would not all sit together, but sit among the others. Joaquim sat in between Thranduil and Maedhros and he bent down and drew a gentle finger down Allie's plump downy cheek while she slept.

Penemue flashed Eönwë a brilliant smile as he sat beside Kim and Catherine, who convulsively swallowed and blushed as Kim introduced her to the tall flame haired Grigori. The two younger Grigori, obviously Seth's contemporaries seated themselves along the back. Joaquim had explained that they were two of the Council's most talented seers and shamans. Eönwë thought they didn't look old enough to be out of school and then laughed at himself. They were probably at least a few millennia old.

Seth, who was chairing the meeting, waited until everyone was settled and the kitchen staff had been dismissed before dinging his teaspoon on his glass of orange juice to get everyone's attention.

"Are we all here?" He quipped.

"Some of us haven't been all here since the Great Flood." One of the Grigori, Armaros heckled from his seat towards the back of the room.

Everyone's eyes swivelled to Armaros who winked broadly and gestured with his thumb towards white haired Kokabiel who sighed deeply and the whole room burst out laughing. Whatever ice had needed to be broken had been well and truly melted.

"There _are_ two empty seats." Another of the Grigori, Shamsiel, Seth's biological father, commented. "So it is a valid question."

Seth rolled his eyes at his father who dimpled at him. Eönwë noticed just how like his father Seth was to look at, the same deep dimples in either cheek which gave them both a mischievous air.

"That would be for us." A calm deep voice spoke from the doorway and all eyes turned to the tall, raven-haired man with amaranthine eyes who stood there. Namo, Doomsman of the Valar, dressed in modern clothes; black trousers, black polo neck sweater and a long black leather coat, came further into the room and to Eönwë's delight, Olorin followed after him. Namo smiled at Eönwë who grinned back at him in sheer delight.

Joaquim immediately got to his feet, came over and embraced Namo who returned the embrace affectionately. Everyone could see that there were tears in both Ainurs' eyes. Finally they held each other at arm's length.

"It has been too long my brother." Namo said softly.

Joaquim could hardly speak for his tears and when he did his voice was thick. "_Far_ too long my brother. We have missed you all so much. How are Vairë and the others?"

"She is very well...they are _all_ well, and very much looking forward to eventually seeing you all again. Raguel also sends his regards. He would have come, but thought that it was better represented by the Valar." Namo moved on to shake hands with the other Grigori who all greeted him emotionally. He finally stopped in front of Seth. "I have heard good things about you young Seth. I can already see that you are very like your father."

Seth blushed. "It is an honour to meet you Lord Namo. Welcome to Moria."

Namo inclined his head. "Thank you for your kind welcome. My companion is called Olorin. He is known to many here, but perhaps more commonly known as Mithrandir or Gandalf the Grey."

Olorin nodded his head at everyone and briefly embraced Eönwë. Elrond was grinning from ear to ear in delight at the sight of his old friend and former conspirator.

"I am very glad to see you." The Herald whispered to Olorin. "Who is looking after Lord Manwe in your absence?"

Olorin chuckled. "He is in the hands of your brother Fionwe."

Eönwë winced. "Ouch. It'll be interesting to see if he survives _that_ little exercise."

Olorin sniggered and made his way to his seat.

Finally, all were present and seated. Eönwë glanced quickly over to where his daughter sat sleeping in Maedhros's arms. She seemed peaceful enough and although one of the dig people would have been happy to babysit, he and Kim both felt better when she was there in front of them. He nodded at Seth to bring the meeting to order.

"Do they all have to be so beautiful? It's like being in an All You Can Eat breakfast buffet with only the price of a cup of coffee in your pocket." Catherine whispered to Kim who only just managed to suppress a giggle and causing Penemue to choke on his coffee.

Kim couldn't suppress the further cackle that bubbled up to the surface and only subsided when she saw her husband giving her the evil eye from the head of the table.

"I'll shut up now." She muttered, but she caught Lord Namo's wink and grinned at him unashamedly.

"_Thank _you." Eönwë said in a voice heavy with patience and veiled sarcasm.

The matter of Moria and the unplumbed depths which, it was believed, held some form of orc-cloning operation was the first to be discussed before they passed on to the more pressing matter of how Herumor had grown in power so quickly. Since the routing of Herumor's servant and his orcs and the clearing of the many halls and plazas surrounding the Twenty-first Hall, things had been relatively quiet. Whatever was down there in the lower levels had gone to ground. Nothing had been done about the Waterworks yet, what with lack of equipment and expertise to pump out the water, so presumably whatever power supply they had, they _still _had.

Orgrim had given his deposition grimly and was very aware that the people who were listening to him were very powerful. He could now see the true power for himself, although he had seen a little of it in the power of the Grigori warriors who guarded the encampment. Yet he had impressed all by his own bearing which was proud and direct. There was no dissembling from this child of Aule.

"We simply do not have the equipment to carry this out. And we know for a fact that there are things, creatures, lying down there which have been there for thousands of years. More than pumping equipment is needed for the purpose of cleaning out the area. Guards and sufficient fire-power to protect those working on pumping the water out are also needed."

The stout little dwarf sat back down and Joaquim stood up.

"I believe that we at Vevey can be of assistance in this. We can supply the equipment to pump the water out and we can supply the engineers to assist Master Orgrim's people and manpower to guard the area. To that end we have readied such equipment and manpower and they only await the go ahead to come to Moria." Joaquim bowed courteously to Orgrim. "With your permission of course."

What could be seen of Orgrim's face was pink with pleasure. He beamed at the tall Grigori and his eyes, small anyway, completely disappeared. "Granted of course and the hospitality of my hall is at yours and your people's disposal, such as it is."

Joaquim smiled at him. "Well I have been told by some of the Kerubim that your hospitality is surpassing fair, but if you feel that you are low in supply for some things, that also can be remedied. We must speak privately a little later Master Orgrim. I feel sure that we can be of assistance to each other. Extra manpower will of course free up the valuable services of Seth, Lord Thranduil and his Elven colleagues so that they can explore further."

"Indeed, indeed." Orgrim beamed happily at him. "After the meeting you must accompany me to our encampment and the others of course if they wish to see."

Sariel stood up next. He bowed to the company. "My apologies for standing up next. I realise that the matter of this creature Herumor is pressing, but the events surrounding Lord Eonwe's daughter are still in question and may be relevant to the matter. I refer, of course, to the summoning of the Kerubim who destroyed the Lycans who were in pursuit of Miss Dalton and Allie. Normally this would not be a matter for discussion were it not for the fact that only a few people have the ability to summon the Kerubim in any form. Joaquim, myself, Seth has recently been given that ability and Asradel, who unfortunately could not be present at this meeting. He has business elsewhere. The burning question is, of course, who summoned them if we did not? These were no ordinary Kerubim. We have a Kerubim militia who can be summoned to destroy, but these Kerubim who came were not earthbound. They were from the Timeless Halls and only Joaquim and Asradel can summon them." He turned to Lord Namo who was sitting quietly sipping his coffee. "Unless of course you and the rest of the Valar have this ability?"

Namo put his coffee down, reluctantly as it happened, since he was rather enjoying the rich, dark, slightly bitter taste. "I can quite safely say that we do not." He asserted firmly. "And neither do any of the Maiar, including Lord Eönwë. So none of us summoned them, although we watched with growing concern and feared greatly that she would be taken. Our hands are tied in Middle-earth now, as you are probably all aware. We come here as guests and at the request of Eru Iluvatar only, as Olorin and I are here now."

Sariel nodded. "It is as I thought then. The question is still unanswered. We are no closer to knowing who summoned them, but summoned they were."

Catherine put her hand up hesitantly and Seth smiled at her. "The floor recognises Miss Catherine Dalton." He turned to the assembled company. "Some of you may not know that Miss Dalton is an unofficial representative of her government here. She is an operative from the American Central Intelligence Agency and was there on the ground watching Lord Eonwe's home when the child was taken. If it were not for her courage, we could well have lost the her. What is your question?"

Catherine stood up and wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. Kim and Penemue both smiled encouragingly up at her. "Well.. I just wondered what the main difference is between these Kerubim people that you have here on the dig site and the creatures who appeared on the road. I mean, I have met some of them and while they are very scary, these others, they were quite different. I truly felt as though I was...I was being judged somehow. If it wasn't for Allie, who wasn't scared of them at all, I would still be sitting there or zapped into nothing by them. I was in no doubt at all that if I stayed they would have destroyed me, whether I was good or not. And what was with Allie suddenly being grown up?"

Eönwë chuckled and looked at Namo. "Before we ask Lord Sariel to explain the difference, would you like to field that last one my Lord?"

Namo stood up and bowed to the company, then he turned to Catherine. "I am Namo Feanturi Miss Dalton. I am what is called the Doomsman of the Valar and the Halls of Waiting, called Mandos, and the souls of the dead are my domain."

Catherine paled. Her hand groped for the table seeking support and ended up firmly held in Penemue's strong grip. "You mean like the Angel of Death? The Grim Reaper and all that stuff?"

"I'm not grim." Namo protested. He looked at Eönwë and Radagast for support. "Am I?"

Eönwë held up his forefinger and thumb. "Maybe a little bit. You _can_ be quite scary."

"Really?" Namo's dark brows shot up to his hairline. "Scary is it? I wonder if perhaps a stint as my head Maia would help you get over your fear of me Eönwë. I am sure it can be arranged once you return to Valinor."

Everyone laughed, including Kim who cackled loudly at her husband's discomfiture and the threatened punishment and Eönwë hung his head. "Oh crap." He muttered under his breath.

"Quite so." Namo remarked. "My feelings precisely." He smiled at Catherine. "So to answer your question about Allie, you have to understand her true nature. She is part Ainur. Her father is a Maia and her mother is a human. The only other documented half Maia child was the daughter of Elu Thingol, who was part of the Teleri Elves and who met and fell in love with a Maia called Melian who used to go to Middle-earth and sing with the nightingales. She married him and they had a half Elf, half Maia child, Luthien the Fair. Luthien's Elven physiology allowed the Maia part of her to develop quite normally and very quickly. So the Maia spirit could manifest itself and grow with her. It is not so simple for Allie. Her body is that of a normal human child of three years whereas her Maia spirit has grown much faster and waits for her to catch up physically. Because the situation was so dire, Allie's Maia half put the human half to sleep and then took over, but the mortal body of a small child could not contain it, so hence she created a temporary adult body. Unfortunately she cannot maintain this body for very long. This is why she appeared as an adult. I have no doubt that once you were clear of the danger she returned to her usual form."

Catherine nodded. "Yes, she did and thank you for explaining it to me."

She slumped rather than sat back down in her seat. This was all just too much for her in one go. Angels, Dwarves and Elves...oh my! Kim patted her back sympathetically. She could definitely relate to how Catherine was feeling.

"So...onto the Kerubim." Sariel got to his feet again. "The difference that Miss Dalton remarked is quite telling. We do have our own Kerubim militia as has been stated, but main the difference between them and the Kerubim from the Timeless Halls is the amount of power they have. We can purge our own kind and sometimes humans, but only if they are at the place where the wrongdoing is taking place and they are involved directly in it. The Kerubim from the Timeless Halls, however, come at the command of the One through his servant Chayyiel and special petition has to be made to him. This involves ritual and communing with the Timeless Halls and only Asradel and Joaquim are able to petition for their intervention. Joaquim because he is the head of the Grigori and Asradel because he is the guardian of the sacred places of the Grigori. The Kerubim, once summoned, cannot be recalled and _all_ who remain in the area are judged, not just on what is happening at that moment, but on every single part of their lives. They are judged and few can withstand that judgement, so they are purged. Few live through such a purging. It is a judgement that comes directly from the One, who is called God and Eru to the Valar, Maiar and Elves."

"So it's a really big deal for them to be called then." Kim said thoughtfully.

Sariel laughed softly. "A big deal indeed. Someone intervened for your daughter. Chayyiel was summoned and granted the petition. Whoever did that is powerful indeed. I can think of only one other who could do that and to do it he must have been aware of her danger."

"Semjaza." Armaros said in a voice tinged with bitterness. "Why has he not come to us, his brethren? If he is aware enough that a child of the Ainur, pure of heart and soul, is in danger, why cannot he be aware that we are waiting for him?"

"It is not yet time." Namo interjected calmly. "He gathers his power around him and all of it is concentrated on the path ahead of him. I speak for Raguel who asks me to give Semjaza's brethren a message. It is this: You will know when the time is right. The restoration of Semjaza's soul was meant to be, it was just not known who would release him. He has a great trial in front of him and he will need you all there to bear witness. This can only be done by those who knew him and were with him at the end. You will know the summons when you receive it, but for now he will not come to you. Not yet."

His voice, though quiet, resonated through the whole room, thrilling everyone there. He had spoken as the Doomsman of the Valar and the voice of Eru Iluvatar.

Again Eönwë hesitated, he really did want to tell them about Roger Hamilton, but he had promised and he knew he should keep his word. Nothing could be gained from him betraying Roger's secret just yet. But could it have been Semjaza who summoned the Kerubim and saved Allie? If so then he was in his debt for the life of his child and that was another reason why he kept silent.

Thankfully the subject of Semjaza's absence moved on. It was decided that it was Semjaza who, for some reason of his own, had summoned the Holy Hayyoth. It had all worked out and had probably, as Radagast declared, sent a clear message to Herumor that they meant business.

It was now Radagast's turn. He stood up and looked at them all over the top of his glasses. He didn't really need them to read, but it always looked good, especially in lectures with his students.

"We have already dealt with what is to be done with Moria. I feel that once we have revealed his cloning operation and destroyed it, we will have dealt a huge blow to his plans. However, we need to establish just how it is that Morgoth is able to influence others so strongly from inside the Void. We already know that this was not a good place to send him. The Void, as Draugluin and Joshua explained, is an empty space filled with what are termed as Hell Dimensions. Morgoth is the original...the First Evil and up to a few years ago was quiescent within the Void. So what has happened to enable him to start interacting again with this dimension and Middle-earth? This is something I would like to know and I know that many of you are also curious."

Nods of agreement from all concerned prompted Joaquim to stand up again. "if I may..." He gestured to the two younger Grigori who had been sitting in the back. "We have had our seers and shamans working on this very matter. I have brought two of them with me, just in case we need to consult them again. However after many days and nights, it has been concluded that it was not _one_ event which made it simpler for Morgoth to impress his will on those in the world without too much trouble. There have been a few events over the past ten years any of which could have weakened the fabric between the Void and this world. Most have centred around a small town in Southern California which no longer exists."

"Earthquake?" Asked Professor Hallam with interest. "You are, of course, referring to the Sunnydale disaster about four years ago. The town itself collapsed into a crater."

Thranduil turned to him with interest gleaming in his blue eyes. "The _whole _town?"

Hallam nodded solemnly. "I believe so. Nothing left, not even the Welcome to Sunnydale sign. The town itself had rather a disreputable reputation. Crime rates were very high. People who moved to the town simply never left...until of course just before it collapsed, then _everyone_ left in droves. The interesting thing about the event was that the animals, every single blessed one of them, including domestic animals like cats, left at least a week before, the rest were taken by their owners who fled the destruction. The animal rescue organisations in and around the area were inundated by strays. They left, then the people left. I believe the last people to get out before it sank was a school bus full of young students, their headmaster and a couple of their teachers...oh and a young man who owned a building business there. The government _did _send people to talk to them, but they had already disappeared into the greater Los Angeles area and nobody has seen or heard of them since."

"We know who survived Richard." Joaquim said quietly. "We already knew that the Slayer and her people were the last to leave and it is believed that they were responsible for the disaster, which is why the authorities looked for them afterwards. The military, geologists and archaeologists who ventured down into the crater did find some bodies, both human and some not so human, but those facts were rapidly covered up. This was after they had dug quite deep down into the debris. Whatever had been nearer to the surface was completely incinerated. All that was found was a very old amulet. A young officer from a special military unit took possession of it and we cannot trace what became of it. The current Slayer, a young woman called Buffy Summers, and her companions fled to Los Angeles and stayed at an old disused hotel called the Hyperion. From there it became difficult to trace them and we had to bring in the seers and shamans to cast locator spells and to get us past the barriers that were erected around their records."

"The Slayer? Sounds like you would get on with her Glorfindel, you being a Balrog Slayer and all that." Thranduil couldn't resist joking with the disgruntled looking warrior.

"Just because it has Slayer in it doesn't mean that we're the same." The much put upon Balrog Slayer growled.

Joaquim laughed softly. "The Slayer is the warrior of the people. She is a girl, from a long line of female fighters endowed with extra strength, power and abilities. The first slayer existed at the time that man first made an appearance on what was then Middle-earth. She was created to fight the demons and monsters that Morgoth allowed to walk abroad freely during that time. She has exceptional strength and can have prophetic dreams. The Slayer line is always female and up to the events that led to Sunnydale being destroyed, there was only ever one, but our story begins before that time, to events only a couple of years earlier when the Slayer sacrificed herself so that everyone on earth could survive. I will not go into these events in depth. Suffice to say that this dimension, this world, was threatened by a creature who had escaped from the Void, a Hell God, from one of the Hell Dimensions who sought a great power which would enable her to open up all of the dimensions so that she could go back home. Needless to say that this would have allowed Morgoth free passage of course. This power was one entrusted to the Slayer to protect and protect it she did. She died in the process. This Slayer was Buffy Summers and the power she protected was made, using her blood, into the form of a sister, for whom she sacrificed her own life."

Murmurings rippled around the room, but it was Elrond who spoke up.

"But you said that she and her companions escaped from this Sunnydale. How can she have escaped if she died two years earlier?"

Joaquim nodded and waited for the murmurs to die down. "You are quite right Master Elrond. It does seem rather impossible does it not? However this is the beginning of the weakening of the fabric, which up until then had suffered some incursions from demons in the Void, but which had never succeeded, mainly due to Miss Summers and her companions and her Watcher, Rupert Giles, it has to be said."

Eonwe's mouth dropped open and he shut it very quickly when Namo caught his eye and gave an imperceptible shake of his head. This was not the time to reveal that Rupert Giles and Sauron/Annatar, Scourge of Third Age of Middle-earth were one and the same. The Herald subsided uncomfortably, but his further discomfiture was not lost on his sharp eyed wife who resolved to pump him for information later on.

"But mortals cannot come back to life." Elrond argued. "Even the Eldar spend their time in the Halls until they are permitted to be reborn. How is it that she is now alive?"

"The how of it is not important." Joaquim responded firmly. "The fact that it did happen is what has upset the balance of the universe and the dimensions. The rules surrounding the Slayer, who works for the Powers That Be in the Timeless Halls, are that only one Slayer is active at any one time. When one dies, another is called to take her place. Buffy died, not once, but three times, although one of those deaths, the last, could be described as contentious."

"A contentious death." Murmured Namo to himself. "How quaint."

Joaquim laughed. "I suppose to us death is much a stranger Namo, but yes, after the first time she died, even though it was only for a couple of minutes, the next Slayer was called. Because the Slayer was still alive, she was sent back to her Watcher until another situation arose when she was sent back to help Miss Summers. She was then killed by a vampire, which meant that the next Slayer was automatically called and now both are still alive. Two active Slayers meant that the line had been disrupted. The second time she died was when the Hell god, called Glorificus tried to open all the portals to the hell dimensions. The slayer throws herself into the portal to save her sister's life, and the world, and consequently dies. "

"She's sounding more and more like your kind of girl Glorfindel." Thranduil whispered to him. Glorfindel put his fingers in his ears.

"These tales are virtually unbelievable." Richard Hallam declared. "Are we saying that there is a supernatural world filled with demons around us?"

Sariel gave his father in law an amused look. "You can look at all of us and then _not_ believe such a thing Richard?"

The Professor shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "Well, it's not the same thing at all is it? You are all spiritual, I suppose, whereas this girl...this Slayer...deals entirely with the supernatural."

"Which doesn't mean that the supernatural does not exist. The spiritual and the supernatural are not altogether separate." Namo interjected. "But perhaps we get ahead of ourselves. Maybe we should let Joaquim continue."

Joaquim smiled and nodded his thanks to Namo. "She remained dead for six months, during which time her soul was held somewhere else, we do not know where, possibly in the Void, but we doubt it. Theoretically her soul _should_ have gone to the care of Lord Namo, but it did not. We can only assume that she refused the call and because of that her soul was vulnerable and wandering around. Her companions back in the world of the living realised that they could not manage without a Slayer. The other Slayer was in prison and not available, so they decided to do a powerful spell that required a petition to Osiris, a lesser deity resident in the Void. This spell had several repercussions one of which was that the Slayer line had now been broken beyond repair. The balance of the dimensions within the universe, always a delicate thing, was disturbed and the fabric between the dimensions became thin enough for Morgoth to make a bid for escape, which he did and which led to Sunnydale being destroyed. The final straw was that in order to stop Morgoth, known to them as the First Evil, from coming through, they cast yet _another _spell which enabled every single potential slayer in the entire world to be activated. We believe that it was at this point in time that the One decided to send Eönwë back to earth in the form of a mortal in an effort to redress the balance."

Olorin tutted and sighed. "All of these spells, done by amateurs and children. Did no one think to warn them that use of all magicks like these have consequences, some of them very dangerous?"

"This poor girl seems to have had a very busy life, what with the dying and the fighting...did she actually_ have_ any time to live a little?" Namo commented.

"What is important is that these events, _all _of which happened on the Slayer's watch, were responsible for Morgoth being able to interfere with this dimension. It was those circumstances which provided fertile ground for his earlier self to interact with the modern world. The door to the Void which had been opened tiny bit by tiny bit is now ajar slightly. He cannot come through and manifest yet, but with Herumor's help by changing the future of the world and putting the power in his hands, he may well do it this time. And it is our task to stop him."

Joaquim sat back down and poured himself a glass of water which he downed in one go. Everyone was silent. Nobody really knew what to make of these revelations. It certainly seemed that once the events had been set in motion the repercussions just built up and up to the point where the balance of the universe was completely awry. This Slayer and her friends had altered so much that it would have been difficult to know where to start and put it right.

"It seems to me that at the end of the day, it doesn't really matter how it happened, just that it has and it's up to us to put it right." Hal Kenwood drawled. "Apportioning blame doesn't really seem fair seeing as none of us were there and god only knows what terrible problems they had to face. Most of them weren't even trained for battles like that. The plain facts are, it _has_ happened and we need to sort it out. I just wonder why this Slayer lady didn't ask for help from...say...our Grigori friends. It might have prevented a lot of this from happening."

"That is a simple matter to explain." Sariel put in. "We were not made aware of the presence of a mystical warrior on earth and she, of course, or rather the Watcher's Council as they ironically called themselves, did not know that _we _existed. We have not had communion with the Timeless Halls until fairly recently and of course we have tried to keep as low a profile as we can down through the millennia."

Seth spotted the kitchen staff waiting outside and decided to halt the meeting at this point. "Ladies and gents, we're going to break for a short time while the staff put some lunch out for us. Unfortunately they have to do it now because the main catering trailer will open for lunch in about an hour. We obviously still have some decisions to make as to our next move. Herumor certainly won't be letting the grass grow under his feet. He has recently suffered two major setbacks and I've no doubt at all that he will be trying something very soon."

Allie, who had slept through the whole thing, woke at this point and started to cry pitifully. She wouldn't be pacified no matter what Maedhros did. Eönwë immediately broke off his conversation with Lord Namo, Joaquim and Olorin, came over and took his daughter off him. He and Kim left the trailer to spend some time alone with her.

"Should we do something?" Olorin asked anxiously as Sariel came up to speak with them and it was he who answered the Maia.

"I think perhaps she just needs to be with her Mummy and Daddy right now. Despite the fact of what she is, she is still a little girl. She went through a terrifying ordeal and now reaction is setting in."

Joaquim chuckled and nudged him. "Spoken like a true Daddy. How is your little one? I haven't seen him in a couple of days."

Sariel sighed. "Oh screaming and dribbling most of the time. Eve is not best pleased with me for coming away right now."

"Your child is teething." Olorin nodded sagely. He had often visited Imladris when Elrond's three children were at that stage. "You should speak to Elrond, he had some salve or such that he used to give the twins and Arwen." He glanced around. "Where is Elladan by the way?"

"He went with Draugluin down to the valley to examine the area where the werewolves were purged" Seth answered.

Lunch was laid out on the serving tables and the next hour passed very amicably with the various groups integrating nicely. Nobody seemed to be concerned that they were all different species, some out of myth and legend. Catherine sat at the back feeling less and less part of them all and more and more uncomfortable. They had made her feel welcome and all she felt was like a snake in the grass. She had seen the enemy close up and in close quarters with influential members of the American Security Agencies, she knew the extent of his infiltration and she had a very very difficult decision to make.

Did she confide in this group, who were obviously on the side of light and betray her own country, or did she keep quiet and just leave when they left to go back to her old life.

_Could _she go back to her old life?

This was a question that was about to be answered when her mobile phone suddenly rang. She'd forgotten that it was in her pocket and the discordant sound made her jump. As she left the trailer to take the call, she was unaware that the former US Ranger Hal Kenwood had silently followed her.

Neither of them were aware that the Grigori Penemue had followed both of them.

Namo watched them _all _sneak out with a faint smile on his handsome face. _Wheels within wheels._ He thought to himself whimsically before turning back to the groaning food table and heaping his plate high.

ooOoo


	66. Laughter is the Best Medicine

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby. Any references to the world created by Joss Whedon belong to him.**

**Author Note: **And now a short-ish chapter, lightening the atmosphere a little and leading us into the next phase of Elrond et al in Moria. The Moria chapters are always complicated to write, so it may be a couple of days until the next update after this.

"Boy, you sure know how to romance a girl. No flowers, no dinner, no tour of the rectory. Just "okay, I'm ready, let's do it." Help me, my knees are weak"

_**-**__** The First Evil, Season 7 Buffy the Vampire Slayer**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 66 – Laughter is the Best Medicine**

**The Twenty-first Hall of Moria**

Elrond poked the fire with a stick in a very desultory fashion. After the visit of the glamorous Grigori and after the excitement over Eonwe's daughter and the kidnap died down, everything seemed like an anti-climax. Still, the vastness of Moria lay in front of them to be explored and it was something real... something tangible to do rather than the vaguely distressing an disturbing nebulous talk of events past which had shaped modern Arda and given Morgoth a very real potential entry back into the world.

He didn't envy Eönwë his task; there would be no battle, the fact that there was nothing really to command lay ahead of him, just the twisted world of the political minefield. These days Generals rarely went into battle. Herumor was turning this into a battle of diplomats and government authorities rather than a battle for the lives of innocent people. Innocent people were now just collateral damage. They always had been that of course, it just had a name now. In the Third Age during the War of the Ring, innocents were no less caught up in the war for control of Middle-earth and had Sauron won, they would have been the first to die under a wave of orc-kind and other monsters.

The war against Herumor and his master's attempt to regain corporeal form and power had taken a sinister turn and the Herald had to put away his sword and turn his voice, his rank and his position into a weapon. He saw the weariness on the Herald's handsome face as he loaded his wife and daughter onto the vehicle which would take them back to England.

Eonwe's training as a very senior officer in the British Army and a real player in the political arena had finally begun. While the meeting went on in Moria an email was sent to him notifying him that as a result of the Officer's promotion board he had been substantively promoted to the rank of Major-General and would formally take over from General Sheldon who would remain in an advisory capacity for the two years to his official retirement, this had been at his request. However his first duty as a Major-General was to go on a course at the Staff College in Camberley, Surrey. Luckily it was within driving distance of home, so he wouldn't have to live in the Officers Mess for six weeks. Unfortunately it had to be done, it was the first step on the road to real command which would land the Herald right in the middle of the very political arena that Herumor was forcing them to fight in.

The gathering of Herumor's armies would still go on and there was no doubt that eventually Eönwë would face Herumor directly in a more physical battle, but the main thrust now was not armies facing each other, but the slow chipping away of resources on either side. Herumor had clearly realised his error in producing more of his orc-kind at this stage in the game. That was an army he would not use until the very end. The Lycans were much more suited to the current work...hit and run. A child here, an adult there, all taken to his laboratories, tested, turned and sent back out into the world to find more.

It was easy to face an opposing army and then clash with force of arms. Then it was down to how good a warrior and leader you were, how good your weaponry and the abilities of the senior commanders on the ground were. This rather insidious little war that was being waged for Middle-earth now was something else entirely. It required surveillance, espionage, good intelligence and the only good thing to really come out of the meeting, apart from the influx of equipment into Moria, was the recruitment of one of the CIA's crack agents and her expertise in those areas.

Catherine Dalton had made her decision and had travelled back to Vevey, the Grigori headquarters with Joaquim and the others. There the command post for the war against Herumor would be formulated and planned and she would head the intelligence side of it. It was the only logical place. They had the base, the resources and they had manpower. With that in mind the newest Major General in the British Army had reluctantly ordered some of his troops to go there. He could have left it up to the Grigori, but he strongly felt and was advised by Lord Namo, that some of the Eldar should be stationed there.

So it was that Elladan, Maglor, Ereinion and Maksim were to travel to Vevey where they would join the Grigori in this battle for Middle-earth. Jim, Finrod, Jan and Alun would remain in their very strategic position in the Metropolitan Police. Eönwë had seen no reason to alter that dynamic. They already had a network created across every police authority in every county in England. They were an invaluable resource in tracking down the Lycans, especially since they had links with the European police authorities as well through Interpol.

Erestor, Haldir and Maedhros would remain as part of Eonwe's personal staff along with Chief Knowles who was now Eonwe's Staff Assistant. A permanent bodyguard had been appointed from Joshua's staff at the London HQ to protect Kim and Allie. Nerdanel and Celebrian were of course happy to remain in the Herald's household. Nerdanel was happy that she was at last closer to two of her sons and her grandson than she had ever hoped to be and they had all delighted in making a great fuss of her, taking her out for meals in restaurants and to various entertainments whenever they came back to Hampshire. Celebrian was delighted that Maksim was finally being given a chance to show his quality. Certainly the Grigori had never been allied with a vampire before and were in for an interesting time.

Draugluin was something of a free-runner. Because of his unique link with werewolves he was an invaluable resource to hunt them down. He had asked for Jeff Harris as an assistant and the young Lycan had enthusiastically agreed. They would be based in Eonwe's household, but occasionally would travel to Vevey if they were in Europe.

The Grigori High Council had agreed that Eönwë would be in overall charge. It made perfect sense since he, unlike the Grigori, was not trying to keep a low profile. As a Major-General he would have a very high profile indeed and as a member of the General Staff would have access to the highest echelons of British Government.

Elrond, Thranduil, Glorfindel, Celebrimbor, Radagast and Hal Kenwood would continue to operate in Moria along with Seth and his Kerubim. Catherine had been able to give them some intel on something very important within Moria, something which was crucial to the final push for Herumor although she had no further details. It would be their task to find out what that was. Basically, as Seth said with some glee, they were on a Search and Destroy mission. His glee had been shared by nearly everyone on his team. Finally they had something definite to look for, namely the orc-cloning operation which needed to be shut down forthwith and also for whatever this secret weapon of Herumor's was. In the meantime, Orgrim and his people would work alongside the people from Vevey clearing out the passages that led down to the Waterworks and the eventual cleansing out of that area.

It was all looking very exciting, so why did Elrond feel so strange? The truth was that the ever changing modern world of men was changing his own feelings and thoughts especially about Valinor. At the end of the Third Age he had been weary, almost unto fading. He had desperately needed the healing that the Blessed Realm gave him, as had many others of course. It had taken at least five hundred earth years for that healing to be complete. So now he was better and raring to go. It was just that the lifestyle in Valinor wasn't really geared to anyone who was raring to go. It was more geared to someone powering down.

In Valinor, within the confines of that protected society, it was easy to just amble on without giving too much thought as to how everything worked or fitted together. All one had to think about was one's own life, estates, farms and family. Tthere were no threats, nothing to worry about and the days ran into on another. New Imladris had a large staff who kept everything running like clockwork. Elrond rarely had to even get involved. He spent a lot of time in his library researching the past, writing his own personal history of the Third Age of Middle-earth, a work which had taken on the aspect of a very large, very ancient and extinct animal. 'Adar's White Elephant' it was known among the family, although nobody could remember who had coined the actual phrase. Elrohir's eldest daughter, Celebriniel, was possibly the only family member who was interested in those times past, but even she had lost interest as love, marriage and elflings of her own took its place.

By the time he had finished it and proudly closed the beautifully embossed and exquisitely painted cover, the White Elephant had already become completely irrelevant even as a text book of sorts. The history of Middle-earth was not taught to students in Valinor, it wasn't considered to be relevant to life there. So it now sat on a shelf in the library, rarely read by anyone and any attempt to get his grandchildren or great-grandchildren to read it and understand why Daeradar was a little odd was met with "Oh Adar, of _course_ they won't read it, it's old history. Nobody _cares _about the Third Age or Sauron any more."

A tiny little voice inside him would say '_I care._ _I lost people I loved there'_, but trying to get them to understand was an impossibility. He was an anachronism... a dinosaur.

Elrond had found himself staring morosely out of the large windows at the sparkling sea beyond more and more. It was as if part of his soul had remained back there in the east and was calling to him. And of course he _had_ left part of himself there. As the yeni marched on he began to frequently wonder whether _anyone_ from Arwen and Elessar's line was left alive. Celeborn came to the west with the dreadful news that the ice had crept over most of the world and very few humans had survived. Nothing of the Hobbits or the Dwarves had been found and this tugged at Elrond's heart. Those brave little people, the idea of them and his descendants freezing to death with nobody to help them gave him nightmares.

To make matters worse Celebrian had also grown quiet after listening to her father describe what it had been like and had taken to going through the beautiful cedar wood box that Elladan and Elrohir had brought with them when they came west. In the box were keepsakes of a daughter she would never see again and in Elrond's case also a much-loved foster son _he_ would never see again. There were locks of dark and blonde silky hair, little letters written to grandparents who had passed into legend long ago and drawings of grandchildren they would never ever meet.

It was clear to them and people like Erestor and Glorfindel that both were brooding about times past. Valinor suddenly seemed very small and suffocating and Elrond started to understand what might have been behind Feanor's overwhelming need to shake the dirt of the Blessed Realm off his feet, he had merely used the Silmarils as one of the excuses.

It wasn't even so much that the Valar kept them under their collective thumbs. In fact, they rarely _saw_ the Valar except at festivals. The Maiar were more obvious, but then they served the Valar and had tasks to perform. All government of the Eldar was taken care of by the Eldar.

Each group had their own provincial government. Tirion for the Noldor, Alqualonde for the Teleri, Valmar for the Vanyar. The Silvan Elves came under the government of the area where they lived. They tended to make their homes in the woodland areas and were scattered across Aman. Galadriel and Celeborn's people came under the rule of the Noldoran, whereas Oropher, now reborn and living with his wife, his grandson Legolas and those who had previously lived under the rule of Thranduil in Mirkwood, came under King Olwe of the Teleri because their lands were in that region. Tol Eressea had its own government comprised entirely of elected representatives from _all t_he groups on the island, but this was administered by Lord Earendil from his haven on the mainland to the north. This had been agreed by democratic vote and he had reluctantly assented to it.

The Valar had little need to see to anything and only in matters of overall national interest did they act. They still sat in judgement in Máhanaxar, they still decided if and when a fea in the Halls of Mandos should be reborn. Lord Irmo and Lady Este still saw to the needs of the ailing and the newly reborn in Lorien. Lord Aule still created his masterpieces and taught the art of smithing and metalwork to those who were interested. Yavanna still saw to the trees and flowers. Whatever task had been theirs at the beginning before the Eldar came to live there was _still _theirs.

So it wasn't that the Eldar lived under an oppressive regime of mercurial and cruel powerful beings. Whatever oppression there was came entirely from the society that had developed among the Eldar. There was almost a caste system in place with the Vanyar at the top, the Noldor in the middle and the Teleri who were almost like the country bumpkins, respected, but thought to be a little weird at the bottom. Then there were the Tol Eresseans and the least said about them the better. _Everyone_ knew that Tol Eressea was the place where all the misfit exiles from Middle-earth had been placed because they weren't really fit to be put among the rest of Aman.

In spite of attempts by enlightened people like Finrod, Celeborn, Galadriel, Elrond himself and many other such 'misfits' who were now actually living in Aman, these stereotypes still prevailed. They dictated nearly all of the social mores of the day. The Valar had even given their backing and approval to attempts to offset these common beliefs, but as in modern Middle-earth so it was in Valinor, once a body had a certain perception nothing short of brain-washing would shift it and that, of course, would be rather defeating the point.

No... the feelings of discontent that Elrond felt had been sown gradually over the millennia. The honeymoon was over and paradise, although very beautiful, had become a little anally retentive. Initially, at the end of the War of the Ring and the Third Age Elrond and the other Ring bearers had sailed across the shining sea from the Grey Havens and had been welcomed by a shower of flower petals, the ringing of trumpets and host of people, mostly those who knew what a dreadful trial they had all been through. The rest of the crowds that filled Valmar on the day that the heroes came into Máhanaxar for judgement, as all newcomers did, had been mostly vague about what it was that was being celebrated, and quite frankly they didn't really care. It was a festival, for Eru's sake, a time for fun, dancing and eating free food. The trials, bloodshed and horror of the Third Age of Middle-earth had not even touched their lives, especially among many of the Vanyar who were a little bewildered by the fuss being made. Only those who fought in the War of Wrath had any notion that these were special people and thoroughly deserved their accolades.

But once the heroes had settled into the humdrum daily life of the Blessed Realm, bewilderment and unease followed the joy and euphoria of finally being here, finally being reunited with loved ones, some whom they had last seen dead on a battlefield. For a few yeni it satisfied them to recreate, almost to the last brick and waterfall in Elrond's case, the habitats they had created in Middle-earth.

That alone should have told them _something_. Why not create something new? Something specific to the paradise they were now in? But no, they recreated little patches of Middle-earth. Celeborn had been heard to mutter that he wasn't sure why they'd even left Lothlorien, since the realm that Galadriel had lovingly created looked exactly like it, even to the clear, bubbling, silvery river that had been named the Nimrodel despite it having a name already.

"I thought it would make you feel at home beloved." Galadriel's voice had been a loving caress, she had waited a long time for her Silver Tree to come home, only to find a tall, silver-haired, rather laconic, grumpy and almost human Celeborn.

It had been on the tip of his tongue to caustically say that he would have felt just as at home back in the original version, but he saw the hopeful looks of all the Galadhrim who were all waiting for him to exclaim in delight and praise. So exclaim he did and was afterwards heard to growl at his son in law when there were just the two of them, that if he were to exclaim in delight much more his face would be frozen into a paralysed parody of delight. This had resulted in Celeborn and Elrond laughing so hard that they actually couldn't breathe and when asked what the joke was, just kept hooting with laughter and wheezing like a couple of arthritic cats after they'd foolishly run after a bird.

Elrond, sitting now in Moria and dressed in what he called his 'soldier kit', let out a string of giggles at the memory. He straightened up and met the raised eyebrows of Thranduil.

"Are you going to share the joke Earendilion?" The former Elven King's tone was quizzical.

Elrond shook his head. "I was just thinking about Celeborn, when he first arrived in Valinor. He hadn't changed at all. He hadn't mellowed, he was just the same dry humoured, logical and wise person I had known before...only _more _so. Did you know he hates the new version of Lothlorien with a passion?" He giggled again. "And if you knew just how much Galadriel struggled to get those bloody Mallorns to grow in that particular climate."

Thranduil grinned. "Don't tell me...they were only the size of a raspberry bush. I can just imagine her frustration. She always prided herself on being able to force things to grow to her precise specifications."

This sent Elrond off into further howls of laughter, brought on by trying to imagine building a talan in a raspberry bush. Even worse, he now had this ridiculous mental picture of the elegant Celeborn and stately Galadriel perched on top of a raspberry bush. The tears ran down his cheeks and he slapped his thigh over and over again.

Seth squatted down beside Thranduil and stared at the maniacally cackling Elrond. "Is he all right?"

Thranduil rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "All right? That depends what you mean by all right. I doubt Elrond has _ever_ been all right as such. He's part Noldor after all. We were talking about a mutual friend." He picked up the pit from the middle of the peach he had just eaten and pelted it at Elrond. It bounced off the Noldo's forehead and sent him off into fresh whoops of laughter. "Stop laughing like a maniac, you dingbat. What did Celeborn say when he saw the wonderful realm his wife had created?"

Elrond managed to stop laughing with a series of hiccups. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "Oh...well, Galadriel twittered on about how much like home it was. Celeborn agreed with her, but you could just tell that he was wondering why they'd left Lothlorien just to come to the Blessed Realm and create another one just like it."

"Oh well, that was really do to with Nenya wasn't it?" Thranduil offered when he had managed to stop laughing. "She created that place using the power of the ring and when Sauron's ring got melted the power left. That was one of the reasons I was damned glad I never had one. My realm was powerful, because _I_ was powerful and willed it so. Once that pretty bauble of Celebrimbor's had stopped working so did everything else. There was no way in hell that Galadriel would have remained sitting in a tree in Middle-earth without the power to make it magical. She _had _to go, being weary had _nothing _to do with it. Her street-cred would have taken a helluva nose-dive if she'd had to scramble up and live on a postage stamp on the top of a birch tree."

Elrond hooted with laughter again. "You're probably right, although I imagine that Galadriel would _still _have made the Mallorns grow to a gigantic size just by exerting her iron will on them whether she had the ring or not. Let's face it Amdir had already grown the Mallorns and built a talan in one before Galadriel and Celeborn got there!" He sighed. "I was just thinking about how, after a while, the Blessed Realm ceased to become this place of wonder and fascination and then became so...day to day, so mundane. In fact I had less to do there than I did here. Everything runs like clockwork over there. It wouldn't dare do anything else. Every day starts out the same which is all right, but then every hour that follows is the same as the previous day. I started doing mad things, like changing the time for lunch and dinner, just for the hell of it. I'm sure I drove Celebrian and the staff crazy. She probably hustled me over here before they all went on strike and lynched me."

"It doesn't sound so bad." Seth said sympathetically. "I always imagined that the Timeless Halls would be like that. You know...get up in the morning, worship the One, eat some ambrosia, drink a little nectar, a little more worshipping, perhaps a little bit of carrying messages to earth, maybe a little angelic wrath here and there, a little more worshipping... I got really depressed, to the point where my father was exasperated with me and took me aside to ask what was going on. So I told him and to this day he _still _has outbursts of hysterical laughter whenever it gets mentioned. I was so mortified."

Elrond lay down on his side with his head propped up on his hand. "Did he tell you what it was _really_ like?"

Seth grinned. "That was the funny thing, he said he couldn't _remember _what it was like. All the memories of those who came to earth as Watchers were altered subtly. I presume so that they didn't fret about not being in such a blissful place. I think the problem with me is that I was born on earth. I physically came into being from the union between male and female, but I stand with a foot in both heaven and earth. Although come to think of it mother tends to gloss over the giving birth part. I once asked her why I had no brothers or sisters and she just shuddered. She said that while she loved me dearly, it was the most humiliating experience of her life and one she had no intention of repeating."

Glorfindel, Hal and Celebrimbor had been going over some of the maps they had started to make of Moria with the cartographer and Radagast. By the time they joined Elrond and the others they found them rolling around on the dusty ground in hysterics. They couldn't prise out of them what they were laughing about because as soon as they started to explain they burst out laughing again. More than one Naugrim looked over with fond approval of the merriment. Dwarves can be dour when they wish to, but nobody enjoyed a good belly laugh more than they did. They believed that it served a purpose.

For them, laughter was the best natural medicine there was.

ooOoo


	67. The Senior Partners

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby. Any references to the world created by Joss Whedon belong to him.**

**Author Note: **To answer yet another very valid question posed by chisscientist and also the Valinor situation mentioned by General Chaos, firstly Sariel is in no more trouble for marrying Eve than any of the other Grigori are for their many liaisons with mortal women. The thing about the Grigori who were either punished and left behind or remained behind voluntarily on earth (of which Sariel was one), they were more or less left without any ability to contact the One. Only the most basic of abilities were left to them and the Grigori females who stayed were few and far between. Because they were earthbound and forced into living side by side with mortals they _did _marry outside their kind, but only very occasionally. It was only frowned on if the woman they married was not fully informed exactly who and what they were and also the longevity of the Grigori was a huge issue. So they had to be careful and therefore inter marrying was not a common occurrence. Eve had special dispensation simply because of both hers and her father's involvement in the events surrounding the return of Semjaza's soul in my book. During those events when the One intervened, certain allowances were made for both Eve and Roger Hamilton. The circumstances surrounding their situation in the highlands of Kurdistan were above and beyond normal control.

Secondly, I wrestled with the ennui aspect of Valinor. I have read many stories of the idyllic lifestyle and how everything was blissful, Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas married beautiful Ellyth and had many beautiful children, husbands; wives and lovers were reunited in bliss; Elrond's home was a haven of bliss in which he was blissfully reunited with Celebrian; Celeborn and Galadriel were living in bliss among the trees of Aman as was Thranduil who had been blissfully reunited with his beloved wife and Legolas...oh wait yes as I mentioned above he married and is living in bliss. The Valar were blissful, the Maiar were kind, beautiful, saintly and presumably blissful. The Ring bearers died blissfully after years of bliss...

Do you see the common factor in all this?

As lovely as most of these stories were (and they are _utterly_ delightful) and as much as it satisfied a need inside me to think that they all had at least _some _bliss, all that pure, unadulterated, never-ending bliss was starting to really sicken me off and all I was doing was reading about it! It was nice for the while. It was lovely to read about the cutsie pie lives they would all live once they got to the Blessed Realm... and then I had this wicked notion.

What if...shock...horror... Feanor had a point? Not about the Kinslaying of course, that was just _wrong._ But, what if he realised very early on that too much bliss and not enough of anything to strive for will make _any_ society, individual or endeavour will stagnate. Sentient beings _need_ goals, either to make them grow or to satisfy curiosity or just because we actually function better when we have something concrete to look forward to. Okay, so he went about it the wrong way. He could have just perhaps politely _asked_ the Teleri to teach him and his sons how to build ships. After all Feanor made weapons and independent sources of light and many other things including jewels, I doubt that ships would have been beyond him or his sons. Feanor, of course, doesn't ever come across as the most patient of people. In that he fits in very nicely with today's "I want it now, yesterday if possible and if I can't have it now, why can't I?" society. I think Feanor was an instant gratification sort of guy as far as things he desired were concerned.

On a slightly more serious note, I think he displayed some very psychopathic tendencies. Psychopaths can be charismatic and manipulative and I believe that Feanor had those traits in spades.

I think that Elrond would have healed, then he would have luxuriated in his wife and family, the peace, the beautiful surroundings and then one day he would have got out of bed and realised that another wonderful day, just like all the others stretched out in front of him. I think at first he would have sat down at his desk with the scented sea breezes wafting in through the tall open windows (I always visualise him living on the coast for some reason) and he would have occupied himself by chronicling the events of the Third Age while everyone sang their little hearts out in the background.

(Have you noticed how many of the stories about Valinor have constant singing in the background all the time? Or bells ringing. I can't help thinking that, as beautiful as it might be, after a while one might have a desire to lean out the window and shout "For god's sake could you just shut up for half a second? I can't hear myself think." Obviously the singing is their version of Valinor radio.)

It would have taken some time of course, but Elrond had all the time in the world to do it and all the while his family grew up and grew larger. Maybe he even had a small task within the court of the Noldoran, some court duties or something. All of this would have filled the time until suddenly everything that he wanted to do and note down was done and noted.

And that's where the vague feelings of boredom began. Elrond was far too dynamic a character, far too used to being in the thick of everything to spend all his time in bucolic pursuits. I think that he would have started searching around for something meaningful to do... and my storyline gives him that. He's done the healing thing, the blissful reunion with the missus thing, the peaceful thing, the writing thing and now he needs something to get his teeth into. And what better thing to kick it off than going in search of his daughter's descendants?

And Thranduil? I think he'd have rather lain down on a slab and had sharp pointy little sticks pushed under his fingernails than live in boring bliss in Golden Valinor. I think the people there would have got right up his nose in oh...possibly about twenty-four hours?

I think they're all better off exploring Moria to be honest!

ooOoo

"**Lindsey**: I could sing for you.

**Lorne**: I've heard you sing. _[takes out a gun with a silencer and shoots Lindsey twice in the chest]_

**Lindsey**: Why... why did you... 

**Lorne**: One last job. You're not part of the solution, Lindsey. You never will be.

**Lindsey**: You killing me? A flunky? I'm not just... Angel... kills me. You... Angel... _[dies]_

**Lorne**: Good night, folks." **-**** " Not fade away", Last Episode Angel the Series**

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 67 – The Senior Partners**

**The HQ of Angband Enterprises, Kalyptein Building, New York, USA, Friday morning (1)**

Herumor was angry, which was nothing new really, his habitual state was varying degrees of rage and the employees of Angband Enterprises had long since learned when to make themselves scarce if that rage erupted up to the lava stage of the volcano.

And it had...

Any bystander, had you been able to find one who was foolish enough to stay on the scene and observe, would have assumed that Angband Enterprises _had _no employees, because on the day that Herumor stepped off the helicopter which had brought him from the private airstrip which houses the company jets, the multimillion dollar building was almost completely empty of living beings...

_... almost._

Herumor glided down the empty corridors. His rage was so white hot that he failed to notice the dearth of thralls in the offices, a matter which normally would have alerted him to the presence of trouble in some form or another. His white hair crackled around his head like Medusa's halo made from pure white hissing snakes. His eyes glowed red in their deep bony sockets and his hands were curled into bony claws.

Someone was going to pay for this latest disaster. Herumor did not accept excuses for crass stupidity and inefficiency. _Somebody _was going to find out just who was boss in this place.

He stepped into the elevator, the doors hissed shut and for once brief moment Herumor allowed himself to physically manifest his anger, an action which resulted in the metal side of the elevator developing a large hole through which the brick walls and metal supports of the lift shaft could be seen flashing by. Despite the large gaping hole in its side, the elevator smoothly came to a halt at the penthouse floor and the doors hissed open.

Herumor had, by this time, controlled the outward manifestation of anger and he glided out into the atrium which served as the outer offices of his domain. All seemed as normal. The potted plants which he despised but which he recognised gave the offices the 'human' touch were all in their appointed places. The receptionist/Personal Assistant's long desk was where it always was and the hapless woman who was the incumbent of the desk and the position was hunched up behind it, her face as white as bleached bone and her terrified eyes huddling deep in their sockets.

That fact alone should have alerted Herumor that something was not quite right. The PA was normally a very confident, self assured woman with a cast iron stomach and an ability to ignore anything out of the ordinary, and that could be anything from an employee beheading to the appearance of of the IRS, a group who could, and often did, descend on a company or individual without due warning and cause devastation in their wake.

She stood up reluctantly in order to get Herumor's attention when what she really wanted to do was crawl into the nearest crack in the wall and scuttle out via the sewers. Herumor had sailed past the desk and he was about to gesture for the door to open when he noticed two things. Firstly, that the PA was actually _trying_ to get his attention, which was odd in itself since she usually waited until he deigned to speak to her; and secondly that there was a splayed and bloody heap of clothing and flesh in the corner right beside the two very large potted palm trees gifted to the office by a Saudi Arabian prince.

His head slithered around to where the PA was standing. His trembling clawed hand pointed at the heap in the corner and his voice shook as it cleaved its way from his convulsed throat.

"_What_ is the meaning of this?"

Glowing red eyes flashed the fires of hell at the normally redoubtable lady and she actually cowered on the spot.

"Y...you have visitors Lord Herumor." Her voice came out as a croaky whisper.

"Visitors? _What visitors?_ I am not expecting anyone. I was not due to return until tomorrow." Herumor hissed at her and she took a step back trying not to wrinkle her nose at the stench of decayed flesh which emanated from him.

"Yes my Lord...I know that, but they were _quite_ insistent." She shuddered as she glanced quickly at the body in the corner. "Yes...quite insistent." Her voice tailed off and she staggered backwards to her chair behind the desk as Herumor turned his attention back to his inner offices.

"Who would dare?" He whispered, almost to himself. He gestured with one hand at the doors which swung open at his silent command. He moved forward and the PA heaved a sigh of relief. Perhaps now would be a good time to make her escape. She surreptitiously bent down to retrieve her purse, but the action caught his attention and he turned his head to look at her.

"And get rid of that.._.thing._" He gestured to the body. "Once you have done that, leave for the day and put all calls to the switchboard, I do _not_ wish to be disturbed."

"Yes my Lord."

She closed her eyes in profuound relief as Herumor disappeared through the wide doors and they closed behind him. She glanced over at the body of Herumor's orc servant and grimaced. Her instinct, given the situation _and _the nature of the visitor, was to literally just run and keep running, but she knew she would ultimately be found, just like all of the employees did. _Nobody _ran from Angband Enterprises and escaped completely. They had sold their souls to the Company, signed in blood and the Company owned them body and soul. They all might have exited the building but they would all be back when the dust had settled, like cockroaches crawling out of the woodwork. Just as she would be back.

The PA sighed deeply and adjusted the strap of her Gucci purse so that she could put it across her body, then she walked over to the disgusting, bloody remains of the orc and with an astonishing strength belying her outward physical appearance, she lifted the orc up and dragged it over to the elevator and shoved it into the empty car with the left toe of her Jimmy Choo shoe. With a moue of disgust, she then leaned in and rapidly tapped in a series of numbers on a small panel just to one side of the main controls and jumped back as the doors closed. The soft hum and whine of the elevator indicated that it was safely on its journey down to below the basement level and her task was completed. She had no idea what would happen to the body once it reached its location and quite frankly Scarlett, she actually didn't give a damn. There were some things it was much better _not_ to know about.

She opened her purse and took out a wet wipe with which she proceeded to wipe the black blood from her fingers. She threw it in the tall stainless steel trash can as she passed it on her way to the stairs which were locked, but to which she and Herumor alone had a key. She was at least thirty floors up, but nothing..._nothing at all _would ever induce her to call the elevator back to the penthouse floor.

ooOoo

**A Grigori Enterprises private jet travelling to England, Friday evening**

Kim was not asleep as Eönwë had assumed. She was curled up in a blanket with a small pillow against the oval window of the Grigori Enterprises private jet, but she was not asleep. Over the other side of the jet Allie lay sleeping with her thumb in her mouth and a floppy eared fluffy bunny toy clutched to her chest given to her by a kindly Eve. Even though the flight would not take more than two hours, the steward had dimmed the lights so that the passengers could shut their eyes for a short time. Kim watched the long shapely silhouette and profile of her husband as he sat with just the reading lamp on reading a magazine. She saw how his head often raised to look over at his daughter. She understood his fears and his relief over their daughter's near escape. If it hadn't been for Catherine and some unnamed man...

It struck her that her husband was now so far removed from what he had been, as to have altered completely. He was still loyal to the Valar of course, he was a Maia and couldn't help himself in that, but he was also now part of Middle-earth, possibly much more than he ever could have envisaged while he was still in the relative innocence of Valinor.

"What were you like...back then? In Valinor before we met I mean."

Her words were whispered, but they cut through him like a knife. What _had _he been like back then? He scarcely remembered, it felt so long ago. That in itself threw him...long ago? When had he started counting time as it passed for mortals in Middle-earth? Time itself meant nothing to the Ainur, they did not count it as mortals do. He was granted a sudden vision of himself prior to the War of Wrath.

In those days he had taken his position very seriously indeed and even his fana had been different to the way it was now. He had altered it just before going away to the War of Wrath after Arien had rejected him. He remembered, with a slight flush of shame, that he had previously worn a fana so beautiful and unearthly that it had blazed its way around Valinor. Silver hair and eyes of amethyst, he had possessed the face of a slightly bored and faintly supercilious angel. He had worn his beauty proudly, as he did his position, almost as a badge of that position. It was his silver haired beauty that had initially attracted Arien's bright golden fire. He had not particularly looked down on the Eldar as such, although it often appeared that way to them it seemed from their reactions, it was just that he had no real contact with them most of the time and when he did, he found himself dealing with them unemotionally.

At the time, it would have surprised most of them to know that Eönwë's unemotional state was not one which came naturally to him. As a young Maiar, newly sprung from the music, the Herald had been a shy, but cheerful, charismatic individual, a Maia who felt great sympathy and empathy to those around him, but Arien had changed all of that, both during their relationship and after it ended.

When it ended, he had abruptly changed his fana from the silver haired beauty and crafted for himself one more suited to mourning the loss of his heart and soul, or so he thought. He caused his new fana to have golden-brown hair, boyish features and stormy dark blue eyes, but stronger facial features. He had cultivated the brilliant smile which had eventually become part and parcel of who he was and he used the smile with devastating effect on everyone, including those who had taken a dislike to the more delicate pale beauty he had worn previously thinking him to be too proud in appearance and demeanour or unapproachable. After a while the smile became more practised, easier to maintain and then, finally...it had become real and part of who he was.

It had actually been a huge shock to his system when Lord Manwe and the rest of the Valar had announced that Eönwë would be the Captain of the Host. He wasn't particularly worried about leading the Host, after all, a warrior was what he was, it made sense that the Elder King's Herald would command his armies and what else had he done so much training with Tulkas for if not that? Why did Tulkas not command the Host? He would have been the obvious choice.

On the other hand an almost weird sense of rejection had overwhelmed him when he received the command. He felt bewildered that his Lord would so willingly send his servant into battle with a foe who was, even at that time, far above him in strength and cunning. He swallowed his bewilderment and tried to feel proud, but all he felt was anxiety. Had he not served his Lord loyally and well enough?

It never occurred to him that Lord Manwe, in his distress at seeing Eönwë's empty eyes after the betrayal of Arien, had decided that his beloved Herald needed something else to distract him and staying in the Blessed Realm watching Arien's new-found happiness with Tilion was probably not the distraction he had in mind. _Now _Eönwë understood that it wasn't willingly that his Lord gave him the honour of command of the Host, but out of necessity, concern and, of course, a belief that the Herald was the right man for the job.

Who had he been before? Someone not very nice really, a someone who certainly wouldn't have taken a tumble with a warm, lovely real mortal woman in a bedroll in the middle of a forest, that was for sure!

"You wouldn't have liked me." His reply sounded terse and he didn't turn to look at his wife when he answered her. "I had little to do with anyone who was not of the Ainur and my duties as Herald meant that I spent most of my time in Valmar or Lord Manwe's halls. I was not as approachable...or as human as I am now. I was not well liked, mainly because I made no attempt to really get to know anyone."

Kim lifted herself into a more sitting position and stared at him. "But I thought that you and King Ingwe were friends."

"We were...we _are_." He sighed deeply. "Ingwe was one of the few Eldar who seemed to understand me and my position. He persevered until I responded and eventually I truly did enjoy the few times that my duties allowed me to stay with him in his home. I gave his sons their first sword tuition and I suppose they and their friends got to know me better than anyone, but outside, I was shy to the point of appearing diffident. I spent nearly all my time with the Valar and my brothers and sisters among the Maiar. The lives of the children meant very little to me, since they weren't something that it was my job to worry about unless specifically asked to do so."

"It's hard to imagine you ever being diffident." Kim's voice was quiet.

Eönwë closed the magazine which had been open on his lap. "Well I was. I was a Maiar, the only time we got involved in the lives of the children was when something went wrong. We rarely involved ourselves in their actual lives."

"What changed you?"

A soft ping sounded over the loudspeaker system and the pilot announced that they were approaching Farnborough private aerodrome and that descent would begin in ten minutes. The steward came out and started to get the jet ready for landing.

"Shall we take her?" Kim asked anxiously. Allie was sound asleep in the chairs which had been revolved to make a makeshift bed for her.

The steward smiled and shook his head. "There's no need to wake the little one. We can strap her in." He proceeded to extend the straps over her body so that she was firmly held. "However you will need to put your seats in the upright position and fasten your seat belts now for landing. I understand from the pilot that your driver is waiting at Farnborough already."

Kim sighed and folded her blanket which the steward took from her. Eönwë had busied himself with returning his seat to upright and fastening his seat belt. He hadn't answered her question and Kim realised that he probably would never answer it now, the moment for such answers had passed. The changed that had been wrought in the Herald of Manwe after his rejection by his first love had been the catalyst for emergence of the strong, passionate and very gorgeous butterfly from its exceedingly beautiful but remote and stern chrysalis.

It had been a Herald filled with the fervour to do the best job for his Lord and filled with a desire to put _something _in the empty hole Arien had left behind who had gone to war. Those times were done. He had been through his own personal fires and come out as tempered steel but with an ability to bend when necessary...the very attributes that had been missing in the original Eönwë.

All _she_ knew was that she had a wonderful, gentle but strong, loving husband and a wonderful loving father for their child. That was all she _needed _to know and for the first time since the whole darkness began she felt that they were going to prevail.

_Those guys are toast._ She thought to herself as the jet began to make its descent and the lights of the small town of Farnborough and surrounding areas of Aldershot, Frimley and Fleet flickered like bright jewels set amongst a patchwork quilt.

The jet's wheels bumped gently on the runway and it taxied slowly to a halt in front of the small private terminal building. They were home and as Eönwë lifted his slumbering daughter over his shoulder, he also put his other strong arm around his wife and kissed her hair. She snuggled into his side and allowed his warmth to fill her.

"Let's go home my sweet beloved." He whispered softly as they stepped down the gangway and onto the tarmac where Haldir and Maedhros waited for them with beaming smiles.

Things were changing, some dramatically, but some were just subtle shifts in the atmosphere, so slight that only an Ainur could perhaps sense them. Eönwë could actually feel that other, _very_ major, players had entered the arena. He was going to need all the clout he could gather behind him if these new players were to take sides. Right now he couldn't sense what direction they were inclined to go in, one side or the other, but he rather suspected that these players would not wish to openly take sides.

No..._their_ agenda was different and entirely their own; that much he _could _sense.

ooOoo

**Saturday, the day after the arrival home of Eönwë, Kim and their daughter**

"What do you think of the Lord of the Rings?"

Jan's question took Maedhros totally by surprise, but Maglor was heard to chuckle quietly to himself. They were all busy packing some of his things for the journey to Vevey.

Nerdanel looked up with interest. "Is that the moving picture that Jim took Finrod, Celebrian and myself to a few months back. There was something called a 'Tolkien festival' but it was like no festival I had ever been to. There was no dancing and no singing or food. We sat in a darkened room with many others and watched actors pretending to be Elves on a huge piece of canvas with many bright lights, although I do say that the man who played Olorin was very good. I remember when Olorin first returned to Valinor with the Ringbearers, he often took on his Istari form so that the Periannath would not feel so strange."

"His name's Ian McKellen and I think he would be very flattered Lady Nerdanel." Jan smiled at the mother of the man she was in love with. "I just wondered."

"I think Tolkien did a wonderful job." Maglor demurred. He cast her a glance under his lashes.

"Was it you?" Jan goggled at the tall Elf. "Did _you_ tell him about all of that. Did you _know _him?"

"We may have met once or twice." Maglor said defensively. Jan raised her eyebrows at him. "Okay, it was a week. He spent some time on the south coast and we got to talking. I may have told his sons a tale or two...possibly."

Jan's eyes were shining like carriage lamps. "Where...when?"

Maedhros gently flicked his lady love under her chin. He could see the eagerness in her face and was more than aware of her ruthless ability to get information out of people.

"Meleth, perhaps he doesn't want to talk about it?" He enquired gently, green eyes glinting with amusement.

To his further amusement she brushed his fingers away impatiently as if she was swatting a fly. Her whole body was quivering with curiosity.

"It is no good my brother." He said to Maglor in Quenya. "I am afraid that the floodgates are now open and you are about to be engulfed in an ocean of questions. Nothing I can say will divert her from this course. She is formidable in this mood."

Maglor chuckled and Jan kicked Maedhros in the shin. "It's really rude to talk in a language that others can't understand." She said tartly and folded her arms across her chest.

Maglor looked over at his mother pleadingly, but she just flapped her hands at him.

"Oh no you don't" She laughed that rich golden laugh of hers, the laugh which had captivated Feanor when they first met. "Don't you boys drag _me_ into this. Jan is quite right, you should speak in English around her, otherwise she will think you are keeping secrets from her."

Both Maedhros and Maglor beamed at their mother, seeing her light-hearted, teasing and happy was a tonic for both of them and Jan played no less a part in that since she had applied herself to getting to know Nerdanel properly even to the point of taking both her and Celebrian on shopping trips, even though Maedhros knew that she hated 'girlie' days out.

Maedhros suddenly whirled around and caught Jan up in his arms. She didn't attempt to move out of the circle of his embrace, just merely raised her eyebrow at him, whereupon he kissed her nose and she giggled at him.

Maglor slouched across the armchair and critically watched his mother fold his clothes and put them neatly into the bag.

"It was 1925." He said quietly. "The good professor was at Oxford where he held tenure as a Professor in Pembroke College and had come with his wife and two sons, Michael and John for a holiday on the south coast near the town of Worthing in West Sussex. I had lived on the south coast for centuries, since Brighton had been a farm known as Beorthelm's Tun in Saxon times." He shrugged. "Tolkien sought me out, he had heard of my singing and tale-telling but what had interested him was that I had lived there many years without changing or growing older, or so the local rumours said. It was that which made him seek me out and I was tired of talking to myself. So I told him what I was and what had gone before. At that point it didn't seem to matter much, any forgiveness from the Valar seemed unattainable, the straight road was closed to me and more than that, I lived. I was the only one of our family who had taken that damned oath and who still lived. I don't know why I told him, I suppose it was because I had stood by and watched as the first history of Middle-earth dwindled into nothing. I didn't want it to be forgotten, even if it did turn into one of the best examples of fantasy fiction in the world today."

Jan sat down on the other bed. "Wow. That's just...amazing."

She looked at Maedhros who shrugged.

"I've not read the work Meleth." He said with a grin. "Maybe when everything has calmed down I'll have a read."

"Or you could watch the moving pictures." Suggested Nerdanel with a sly smile. "As I understand it, they more or less are true to the original work and the actors were very good, even if they didn't quite live up to the way the Eldar actually look. Celebrian nearly died laughing when she saw Elrond. She said afterwards that although he had a nice kindly face, he looked nothing like her dear husband, although according to her, he did _behave_ rather a lot like him."

"Ha!" Jan bounced onto her feet. "I bet Peter Jackson and Hugo Weaving would have _loved _to have heard that."

Later, as they sat in the garden watching Haldir playing with Allie and Bob the dog while Rasputin watched from the low wall which separated the terrace from the lawn, Maedhros suddenly turned to his brother.

"Lord Eönwë is heavily burdened since his return." He gestured towards where Eönwë stood, hands lightly clasped behind his back on the terrace. To all intents and purposes he was also watching Allie play, but both Elves could see that his gaze was distant and veiled. Nerdanel, Celebrian, Kim and Jan were sitting at the table on the terrace and Erestor was pottering around coddling the plants in the pots and the herbs in the planter.

It was also quite obvious to both Elves that Kim was not watching her daughter either, instead her gaze was fixed on her husband and she looked troubled.

"His responsibilities have changed now." Maglor responded softly. "They have greatly increased. So now, not only does he have the safety of the whole of Middle-earth, but also the full weight of a very high ranking responsible position on his shoulders which will both aid and hinder our cause. I think, as well, that the kidnap of his child and her pain and terror, even for those two days, has weighed heavily on both him and his lady. This was not meant to be an onerous task when Eru sent him here four years ago. It has taken on a whole other meaning to it now and he is feeling the weight of it on his shoulders."

Maedhros stared down at a single file army of ants as they wended their way across the terrace flagstones in search of food. Erestor cursed to the rooftops if they found their way into the kitchen, as they often did, but Maedhros admired their tenacity and ingenuity.

"Does it bother you to travel all the way to this Switzerland and stay with the Grigori?"

Maglor shrugged. "It makes no difference to me where I fight this battle, however I believe that Lord Eönwë has made a good decision to divide us up rather than leave us kicking our heels in Hampshire for long periods. You, Haldir and Erestor will have your work cut out for you, as we all will. You will look after Amme for us won't you?" There was a shade of anxiety in his grey eyes.

Maedhros rolled his eyes heavenward. "What a question to ask! Of _course_ I will look after her, Jan and I _ both_ will. She is in the Herald's household and as long as she doesn't wander out of the grounds in one of those vague moods she gets sometimes when she is in full creative flow and get herself kidnapped, everything will be fine." He sat up straight and stared across the garden. "Ooh look, I believe our Fearless Leader has come out of his own vague mood thank Eru."

He pointed over to where Haldir and Allie had been throwing and kicking a ball to each other around the grassed part of the garden. Eönwë appeared to have shuffled off his worries and sped gracefully between them, dribbling the ball like a member of Premier League football team. He effortlessly wound his way around the Galadhrim, chased madly by a cackling Allie and the dog, barking at the top of his voice, and headed the ball perfectly into the low goalposts set there against the fence; a feature left by the previous occupant of the house who'd had three sons, cheered on by Kim, who now looked relieved, Erestor, Celebrian and Nerdanel. He was joined a couple of minutes later by Maksim who swept Allie up in his arms and took possession of the ball. He scored another goal and then high-fived the little girl who was chortling her head off and who subsequently enthusiastically tackled him around the knees, thus allowing Eönwë to re-capture the ball. He stood with a faint smile tugging at his lips, then twirled the football on the end of his finger like a basketball player.

"Handball!" Kim yelled from the sidelines.

Maksim answered the challenge by leaping to his feet and tackling the much taller Herald to the ground. Allie took this as an invitation and dove on top of her slightly winded father. She bounced up and down on him until he begged for mercy. Maedhros ran up, expertly hooked the ball and passed it to his brother who in turn passed it to Maksim who scored another goal. He and Maglor ran around with their tee shirts over their faces and bumped chests just like the regular footballers, much to Allie's delight.

"Foul." Eönwë wheezed. "I've been fouled. Give them a red card please Referee. Two Elves, a vampire and a little girl against one of me. It's not fair."

"Oh _please._" Maedhros dribbled the ball and passed it to Maksim. "Go and tell someone who actually cares. You're the Herald of Manwe and a Maia, you could be a team all on your own."

Eönwë leapt to his feet. "To the death then!" He tucked the giggling little girl under one arm and charged after Maksim who squawked and immediately passed it to Maglor.

At this point Haldir decided to hand the baton of amusing Allie over to her father, the two Elves and the vampire and slumped into a nearby chair. He accepted a glass of wine from Nerdanel with a small bow and sat back to enjoy the unfolding fracas. Bob the dog flopped down beside his chair, long pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. The cat had decided that all this frantic activity was too upsetting for his delicate disposition and was curled up on a chair in the conservatory.

"They should have put them all in the England team." Kim remarked as her husband manfully took them all on in a very lopsided football match. "We might have actually_ won_ something for a change."

ooOoo

**The HQ of Angband Enterprises, Kalyptein Building, New York, USA**

The large double doors of polished ebony swished shut behind Herumor and he opened his mouth to demand from whoever had the gall to push their way in to his private offices, but then he noticed that his human avatar was seated in one of the chairs at the long gleaming glass and chrome conference table, a fact that wouldn't normally have surprised him, except that his avatar's body was the _only _thing sitting in the chair, his severed head was neatly arranged on the table beside him in a pool of viscous red blood which was slowly dripping onto the polished floor.

He took a step backwards and his white brows knitted together in confusion for a moment as he surveyed the scene.

"I'm really sorry about your guy there and the mess, but the thing is...I _really_ needed to make an good first impression on you."

The voice was a soft Texan drawl and it belonged to a mid-height, stocky young man with fashionably styled but long brown hair and who was dressed in an immaculately cut expensive dark grey suit, white shirt with cut away collar and a deep maroon tie. His face was almost boyishly handsome, yet there was a dissolute air about him and a stench of something overriding the expensive cologne he wore... something which reeked of the rotten egg smell of sulphur. His mouth was wide and generous and currently smiling, reminiscent of a wholesome Texas farm boy, which might have put anyone at their ease had it actually reached his eyes which were a cold, pale blue. There were no deep red fires of hell in their depths and yet Herumor knew without a doubt that this was _exactly_ where this young man...this creature... came from.

The Texan perched casually on the edge of Herumor's desk, one powerful grey clad leg hanging negligently while the other supported him. His smile widened, revealing a perfect set of wide very white teeth. Herumor noticed almost absently that he wore a small hoop earring in one ear.

"So..._did _I? Make an impression I mean?"

Herumor actually took a couple of steps backward, somewhere deep in his rage befuddled mind he recognised that this was not an adversary to be taken lightly, so he had the presence of mind to curb the howl of rage that threatened to erupt and replace it with a relatively calm question of his own.

"Who exactly _are_ you?"

The young man laughed, a slightly hollow sound completely bereft of genuine merriment. He slid off the desk and approached Herumor with one hand extended.

"Oh...did I not introduce myself? How terribly rude of me. A mere oversight I assure you. My name is Lindsey McDonald and I am a...or should I say _the._.. senior representative of the Senior Partners of the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart." (2)

ooOoo

**1. Kalyptein **(_noun),_Greek,meaning to cover, one of the origins of the word Hell.

**2.** **The Wolf the Ram and the Hart**, reference Angel the Series. Wolfram and Hart, evil law firm whose principal office was in Los Angeles and which covered the activities of the Senior Partners, major players in the Hell Dimensions and on earth since the beginning of time and deeply involved in all major apocalypses down through the millennia. They are currently not associated with the activities of the First Evil or Morgoth but he is not unknown to them and they obviously have a vested interest in whatever goes down in modern Middle-earth.


	68. Hell's Bells

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby. Any references to the world created by Joss Whedon belong to him.**

**Author Note: **Many apologies for the delay in posting. I've been in quite a lot of pain with my knees over the past week and it hasn't been conducive to writing anything. Again thank you so much, those of you who reviewed, I do try to reply to all, but I have been in a bit of a state so I apologise to anyone I didn't reply to.

I originally didn't want to say too much about the Senior Partners because their role in these stories will become clearer over the next two chapters quite simply because Herumor is headed for a collision course with them in the power play. However because Dark Power _is _slowly winding to a conclusion, I do need to start preparing the way for the third story in the series and because of that, a little background is probably necessary, as chisscientist was totally correct in pointing out. So if you wish to know more about the Senior Partners, please read the endnote at the bottom of the actual chapter. If you prefer to find out as the chapters roll on, then you are under no obligation to read which is why I have put it at the end of the chapter in the form of an endnote. You can avoid it if you wish, it's entirely up to you!

ooOoo

"**Lindsey McDonald: **That's what I like to see. Angel of yore. Takes no prisoners. Suffers no fools. How 'bout this? It's_ here. _It's been here all along, underneath. You're just too damn stupid to see it.  
**Angel:** See what?  
**Lindsey McDonald: **The Apocalypse, man. You're soakin' in it.  
**Spike: **I've seen an Apocalypse or two in my time. I'd know if one was under my nose.  
**Lindsey McDonald:** Not _ an_ Apocalypse. _The _Apocalypse. What? Did you think a gong was gonna sound? Time to jump on your horses and fight the big fight? Starting pistol went off a long time ago, boys. You're playin' for the bad guys. Every day you sit behind your desk and you learn a little more how to accept the world the way it is. Well, here's the rub. Heroes don't _do_ that. Heroes _don't _accept the world the way it is. They fight it.  
**Angel:** You're saying that everything we do... it's a distraction to keep us busy from looking under the surface?  
**Lindsey McDonald: **_[sarcastic]_ Ding! We got a winner. World keeps slidin' towards entropy and degradation. And what do you do? You sit in your big chair and you sign your checks, just like the Senior Partners planned. The war's here, Angel, and you're already two soldiers down."

_**- "Underneath", Episode 17, Series 5 of Angel**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 68 – Hell's Bells**

**The HQ of Angband Enterprises, Kalyptein Building, New York, USA, Friday morning **

Herumor's eyes narrowed as he observed his 'guest'. The young man stared calmly at him and appeared to be unconcerned by the scrutiny. He made no further comment, but merely waited patiently.

Finally Herumor spoke. "I know nothing of these... _Senior Partners_." He sneered.

Only a faint shadow in Lindsey McDonald's eyes indicated that he had taken exception to the sneer, but when he replied his tone and manner were affable.

"Well now, you see..." He drawled. "This is why the Senior Partners have sent me, their official liaison to ...er... complete your education in this regard. And here..." He gestured to the unfortunate mortal who had lost his head." "...endeth the first lesson."

Herumor drew himself up to his full height, which was considerably bigger than the Texan sitting calmly in front of him, yet still, the young man, or whatever he was, seemed much taller and larger.

"You think that the summary execution of this human...this mortal, means _anything_ to me? They copulate and spawn like rats in a sewer, they infest this earth in their millions, feeding, mating, sweating their disgusting life fluids out into this earth and then polluting it further when their minuscule lifespan ends. This one was a convenience only, there are many more where he came from and _all _are dispensable. Even if one should die, how shall this disturb me? My Lord and I will eventually destroy them all." He spat out his invective like the spitting cobra spits out its venom.

Lindsey stood up, looming in the room as though it had suddenly shrank to the size of a broom cupboard. Herumor stood his ground, but inside, he was beginning to wonder just where this person came from and who gave him his power. He exuded it from every pore, yet it did not belong in that frail human frame. His curiosity in all things like this began to push to the fore.

"_Well _now..." Lindsey's wide smile got even wider if that was possible. "Y'all got me there... you see the Senior Partners while applaudin' your initiative thoroughly, are beginning to wonder if you are in possession of the _real_ facts of the matter here on earth."

"_Real _facts?" Herumor was beginning to regain some of his composure, but he still remained where he was. Whatever power that was out there which could fill this room the way it was filling it now, was something to be respected. "And what might those real facts be?"

Lindsey didn't reply immediately. Instead he sauntered... there was no other word for it...over to the drinks cabinet which Herumor himself never used, but which he kept solely for the rich and influential mortal clients and opened up a bottle of fifty year old scotch. He sniffed the bouquet appreciatively and nodded in approval to the slightly flabbergasted Herumor.

"I gotta say, that is one_ fine_ vintage whisky you got there." He casually poured himself a couple of tots and raised it in a mocking toast to the room in general. "Bottoms up."

He downed it in one go and even though Herumor didn't imbibe, he shuddered at the barbarous treatment of a fine, very rare vintage which should be sipped and savoured, not slung down the throat as if it was the cheapest rot-gut. He watched in silence as Lindsey put the glass back on the tray and then turned to face him, but there was a steel in his glance now, whereas before his eyes had just been the pale blue of winter skies.

"So.. the real facts of the matter are... _every_ great power for evil has their territory. These days, _every_ Tom, Dick and Demon wants a part of earth, this bein' like a paradise with a plentiful all you can eat human frailty, suffering and degradation buffet, you understand? The Senior Partners _know_ who your boss is...Melkor, Morgoth, the First, whatever he wants to call himself is his business, but playin' down here on earth now...well that's a _whole_ different rodeo. You're playin' in _their_ sandbox now. Your boss might have been the big bad wolf back in the day, but those pesky Valar sure put paid to that. Things are a whole lot different now. You see with the power vacuum that the Valar created when they took your guy out of the equation, their actions didn't really fix things and they _knew _fine wellthat it didn't. Why'dya think that they wanted those pointy-eared, drearily ethereal hobgoblins back safe in their cosy little fortress dimension? Simply because they knew that with your boss gone, the rest of demon kind would run riot. And they did, for a little while, until the Elves who decided to stay got wise and started to take them out. They were the first demon hunters...what were they called again?"

Lindsey tapped his chin thoughtfully with one index finger. He wandered over to the windows made of necro-tempered glass

"Nice windows by the way...where was I? Oh yeah... the Avari. Some were taken of course and some were changed, but mostly they learned to live on the land as it was and mankind, who were strugglin' to exist _also_ learned; some things from them and some for themselves. Although _they_ were clever enough to create a mystical warrior to fight the demons and the bad things. Strange, you'd think that the Elves would have thought of that wouldn't you?" He stopped pontificating and frowned deeply, as though it was a burning question that required in depth pondering. "_Anyway,_ the thing is, that the Elves wondered what the race of men were runnin' from when they spilled into their lands and why they were so reticent about it. They never did get to the bottom of it, because Men never spoke of those times or what happened, they were far too scared, and that suited the Senior Partners very well. They grew to great power and influence in the power vacuum that your master left when he stupidly allowed himself to be taken...not _once_...but _twice_. _Damn_...fool me once, shame on you...fool me twice, shame on me. And neither the Valar nor the Powers That Be thought to even _think _of them as a serious threat at the time. _Big_ mistake..._huuuge_, in fact."

He bent close enough to Herumor for him to smell the whisky on his breath, then he smiled, winked and wandered around to the other side of the conference table.

"I do not understand." Herumor said. "I would have thought that my actions would be in accord with their...er...agenda. Your masters' and my master's aims are not dissimilar. The subjugation and complete demise of the crawling filth called men which currently pollutes this place."

Lindsey stared at him. "Is _that_ what you think the Senior Partner's agenda is? The complete annihilation of the human race? The end of the World? Man, you _are_ trippin'. It ain't the demons and bad shit that keeps this place the somewhere to be among the Big Bads out there...it's the small evil in _humanity_, the day to day evil shit mixed in with the good, the chivalrous and the honourable that makes this place a paradise for demon kind. Without that, this place is just another evil dimension. What would be the point in destroyin' it? Good and evil are both sides of the same coin, for either one to be meaningful, the other _has_ to exist. So no...your agenda and the Senior Partners' agenda surely _ain't_ the same. Still, they were prepared to let you have your tiny little square in the sandbox, especially since they could shut you down any time they like, 'cept for one thing."

Herumor raised an eyebrow. "And that one thing would be?"

"You drew the unwanted attention to yourselves of a group that the Senior Partners preferred would remain neutral and anonymous, as they have done throughout many millennia. In doin' so, you alerted others, higher up in the peckin' order, that somethin' real bad was goin' down here on earth. They in turn contacted our old pals, the Valar and before you could spit chawin' tobacca in a can, someone was sent to give the place the once over."

"The Herald of Manwe." Herumor swallowed past a growing lump of anxiety in his throat. He could feel where this was going.

"The Herald of Manwe." Lindsey rolled the name around his tongue. "Has a nice kinda sound to it don't it? All noble, warrior-like and shiny. Yeah, that would be the guy. I'm told he's a real pretty boy as well. The ultimate warrior. Only it seems that the Powers That Be were careful _and _a bit sneaky, they snuck him in wearin' a mortal form so the Senior Partners wouldn't know who he was. Until he got sucked right back in time to an earlier stage in earth's development. That was pretty much your boss's doin' as well by the way, the only good that came out of that was that now we know who and what we're dealin' with."

Herumor folded his hands across his stomach. "And _we _will deal with him. We cannot kill him of course, only his fleshly form. His spirit will flee back to Valinor. "

The Texan sat down in a chair directly opposite him across the conference table. "_That _remains to be seen. Rumour control has it that y'all carelessly lost your main bargainin' chip with the Herald of the Valar. You had his kid and then ...oops... you didn't. I have to tell you that most of the demon underworld and a few of the other big players had been takin' out some pretty hefty bets over your handlin' of that particular situation and there are some pretty sore losers out there." He shook his head in mock despair. "You had her, you lost her, probably one of the most valuable assets you could have had in this fight...poof! Gone with the wind. I gotta tell you that you _really _do need to get some folks into your team who actually _know_ what they're doin' when it comes to kidnappin'. I could recommend a couple if you like. I'd be willin' to bet that y'all don't even know _who _it was bailed her and the CIA lady out. Never mind, perhaps y'all didn't get the memo." His tone suddenly hardened considerably. "Your little fight with the Herald of the Valar is building up to quite a crescendo and I gotta say that so far, it's Herald of Manwe 1, Morgoth Nil and you're quite a few men...er...wolves or whatever down already. Things ain't looking _too_ healthy man."

Herumor was speechless, he couldn't even find it in himself to posture or threaten this cool laid back Liaison to the Senior Partners. He dearly wanted to ask _who_ it was that broke Allie and the American out of the prison in the vineyard, but he didn't want to let on that they were unaware of his identity. This creature and his masters knew far too much as it was.

The Texan stood up. He dusted off his trousers and picked an imaginary piece of lint from the sleeve of his jacket. "Oh, and regardin' the mines of Moria. You might have wondered why it's bin so quiet on that front of late. It seems that the Senior Partners had to send a clean up team down to the depths."

Herumor sprang to his feet, outraged. "What?"

Lindsey's eyes crinkled up at the corners and he shrugged again. "Yeah, seems that there was a whole new race breedin' down there and interferin' with the natural course of affairs. Pretty bad choice of place to set up a breedin' programme. Now that the Sunnydale Hellmouth is closed for business and they have Slayers posted on the one in Cleveland, the Moria Hellmouth is pretty much the one place left as an unguarded passage through from the hell dimensions for someone who knows what he's doin'. I must say the Senior Partners are surprised that Morgoth didn't try to use the Moria Hellmouth to come back through a couple of years back. That might have somethin' to do with the seal over it of course. Y'all have heard of the Seal of Kal?"

Now Herumor was thoroughly confused. He shook his head mutely.

"The Seal of Kal is reputedly the third seal that gets broken when the so-called Anti-Christ comes to earth. Story goes that he comes through the seal, but there are signs and portents around that say that he's _already_ here. You can be sure that the Senior Partners are keeping a very close eye on these matters, so nothin' there for you or your master to worry your heads about...unless _he's_ the Anti-Christ of course." Lindsey threw back his head and roared with laughter. "I'm guessin' not, somethin' tells me that the Anti-Christ wouldn't go botherin' with a backwater like Sunnydale if he _seriously_ wanted into the world now would he?"

It seemed to be a rhetorical question, therefore requiring no response from Herumor. Apparently this world had grown into a complicated place since everyone from before the Ice Age had left. He knew nothing of these Hellmouths, nor did he know about any seals. Unless of course Morgoth was holding out on him. His ears had pricked up at the reference to the Anti-Christ already being on earth, now that _was_ interesting. Especially since it wasn't referring to Morgoth, but apparently someone entirely different. That fact alone was worthy of some deep research.

"And now I gotta love you and leave you. It's bin _real_ nice touchin' base with you. I can see that y'all have a lot to think about. Sad about your orc breedin' scheme, but I'm sure you will find somewhere else to carry it out. One good thing, there won't be anything for those nosy Elves and the Grigori to find either. The seal won't mean a damn thing to them unless they already know it's there and I'm thinking not, otherwise we'd have a whole passel of Slayers or angelic warriors camped out right there already." He flipped off a two fingered salute at the silent and aghast Herumor and walked over to the double doors. "Don't worry, I'll let myself out. Be seein' you."

Herumor had stood up by this time and he watched open-mouthed as the Texan raised both hands to the heavy double doors which usually only opened at his command. His visitor didn't let that stop him. As he turned the flat of his palms towards the doors, they literally just fell off their hinges and slammed to the ground, splintering in a dozen places. Lindsey turned and he had a small maliciously mischievous grin on his face.

"_Oops_." He stepped through the gaping opening and as he walked towards the elevators he could be quite clearly heard to say. "God...that _never_ gits old!"

ooOoo

**Early hours...the Residence of Major-General and Mrs Gary Matthews...**

_You think you know ... what's to come ... what you are. You haven't even begun. _

The tall fair haired woman gazed compassionately at him and then dematerialised. Somewhere... in some deep part of his mind, he realised that he was dreaming.

Eönwë fought his way through the sleep he had come to despise and yet knew he had to do if his fleshly body was to stay healthy. Despite being who he was he still panicked when his gummed up eyes refused to open. Somebody was in the room where he and Kim lay sleeping and vulnerable and he needed to be alert.

He dashed his hand across his eyes and blinked the blurriness away from his vision. At the end of his bed he shared with Kim an astonishing spectacle had begun to make itself clear. A short, red-faced cheerful looking man dressed in a loud checked suit and wearing a jaunty hat with a small feather in it was lounging there. He grinned at the astonished and speechless Herald; a quirky, mischievous grin that clearly showed that _he_ was at _his_ ease even if the Herald wasn't.

Eönwë couldn't speak for a few long moments. He glanced quickly over to his wife but she was still fast asleep, her cheek pushed up under her hand. The random thought that she would wake up with numb fingers in the morning passed through his mind.

"She can't see me." The man's tone was as cheerful as his demeanour and had a soft Irish lilt to it, a not unpleasant sound, but Eönwë had a sudden terrible feeling that this creature wasn't as harmless or as cheery as he looked. This was some kind of messenger, and not from the Valar. He might have looked human, but everything about him screamed demon kind.

He pulled himself up so that he was leaning against the headboard. He stared cautiously and evenly at his nocturnal visitor. "You have a message for me..." He stated in a flat tone.

The man laughed, a wheezing sort of laugh that actually made the hair stand up on the back of the Herald's neck. "That's what I love about you Ainur...sharp as a tack...can't put one over on you can we?" He jumped lithely off the bed and approached Eönwë with one hand out in greeting. "And you're quite right...I'm a demon...but not of the bad kind...I'm a messenger from the Powers That Be, on whose turf you and your kin are busy struttin'. Name's Whistler or that's as near as you can get in human talk, my real name's pretty much unpronounceable unless you're a dolphin. I'm what's called a Balance Demon."

Eönwë blinked and reluctantly took the proffered hand. "Am I meant to be pleased to see you?" He enquired as they shook hands briefly.

He abruptly swung his long legs over the side of the bed and stood up, completely uncaring that he was naked. Nudity meant nothing to him or his kind, embarrassment over such things was a wholly mortal concept. It did seem to bother the Balance Demon though. Whistler looked around the room, unhooked a maroon bathrobe from behind the door and tossed it to him. Eönwë slipped into the robe, belted it loosely around his waist and then beckoned the demon over to the dressing room. He closed the door carefully and then turned to face his extraordinary visitor.

"She wouldn't have heard us." "Whistler leaned casually against the dressing table. "Still probably better not to take the chance."

Eönwë folded his arms across his chest and stared diffidently down at the demon. "Why don't we start with the Powers That Be and what do they want with me?"

He raised his eyebrows and gave Whistler a shot over his bows with a piercing glare from his bright eyes. He was mildly gratified to see the demon wince and look away from the light of the divine which the Herald usually kept dimmed for the sake of the mortals around him, but which he used to good effect with those he was wanting to intimidate .

"Maybe we could start with _you_ notgiving me the death ray look?" Whistler said tersely. "I _really_ don't know what's _wrong _with you champions... the Slayer gives me a left hook, a right jab and a black eye every time I show up, or threatens to choke the life out of me...you try to spear me with those bright and deadly angel eyes of yours. I keep tellin' folk... I'm _only_ passing on messages...don't shoot the messenger."

"If you suddenly turn up uninvited on the Slayer's bed in the middle of the night, I'm not surprised she reacts that way." Eönwë replied acerbically. "Think yourself lucky I don't pull your arms and legs off and send you back to the Powers in a dozen pieces in a brown paper bag."

Whistler chuckled. "Well at least you're _marginally_ more civilised than the Vampire and the Slayer usually are, I'm usually pickin' myself up from the floor round about now when I go to see them, but this visit has nothing to do with them. You're aware that another major group of players have come on the scene in this little debacle between you and Herumor?"

Eönwë straightened up and his keen glance became even keener. "I can feel that there is a shift in the power around us, but no details. Who are they and are they friend or foe?"

Whistler sat down. "Have you ever heard of the Senior Partners?"

Eönwë shook his head and frowned. "Should I have?"

"Probably not... it's not really your department, more the Slayer's domain, the realm of the supernatural. The Senior Partners are the major players in that realm. Yer man Herumor don't really count as supernatural and normally wouldn't have come onto their radar, 'cept that he has. What do you know about the Old Ones and demons?"

Eönwë's lips pressed together in a straight line. "Apart from the fact that they are very annoying and cryptic? Nothing... well...I know a _little_. Melkor encouraged the passage of many of them at the beginning of Ea when the various dimensions were not yet in their rightful places. Many of them were powerful, but they all knew their place under him."

Whistler nodded. "The Old Ones held sway for a while after the Valar fought him off. At the time the Senior Partners were pretty much small fry. Neither the Old Ones nor Melkor paid them much mind. In his absence the Old Ones pretty much ruled the roost, but then he came back and, bein' much more powerful than they were at the time, he banished most of them and then started in on creatin' his armies."

"Where did he banish them to?" Eönwë frowned. He knew that demon kind had roamed the earth in the place where the Secondborn had come into being, but he was hazy on the details. The Valar believed that it was from this threat that the Secondborn had fled. Getting rid of those demons was probably the one good thing to come out of Melkor's rule if one completely ignored the fact that he actually replaced them with something almost as bad.

"I was just getting' to that." Whistler said patiently. "Well, in the meantime, yours and my Big Boss Man, Eru Iluvatar, had been a real busy guy, creatin' the Void and the dimensions within it and at that time the Doors of Night weren't placed as a barrier across the entrance. Melkor managed to shuffle quite a few over to the Void before the Valar cottoned on and shut the doors. The others stayed in Arda...the Senior Partners among them, only Melkor didn't consider _them _to be a threat. They were minor stuff. They hung around on the margins of his activities and as long as they didn't interfere unduly, he left them alone, which is more than he did for the remaining Old Ones and this is where the problem lay." Satisfied that he now had the Herald's full, but frowning attention, he relaxed a little and crossed one leg over the other. "The problem was that although most of the demons had been banished, their leaders were still moseying around causing grief, especially to the race of Man struggling onwards and upwards and also to many of the Eldar... or rather those who didn't take any notice of Orome when he came. So he called a brief truce and met in secret with the same human sorcerers who created the Slayer line and together they came up with a solution which suited both of them...they created the Deeping Well and Melkor caused the Old Ones to be bound and cast into the well in specially made sarcophagi for all eternity. A guardian was placed there and up until a couple of years ago he was still there."

Eönwë's frown grew deeper. "Was?"

Whistler nodded. "Was. It was one of the things that helped to weaken the barrier between all the dimensions over the past few years. A relatively menial employee of the Senior Partners' office on earth, Wolfram and Hart in Los Angeles who had by this time become the Big Boss Macoulah in the supernatural world, caused one of the Old Ones...a self-styled primordial god-king called Ilyria... to be released and ultimately it was the start of a major apocalypse that nearly hit the earth a a couple of years back during which the guardian of the Deeping Well was murdered and which was narrowly averted by the Powers stepping in, but that's a _whole _other story for another time. Suffice it to say that there is a _whole_ supernatural world of magic, good and bad, out there which ordinarily _wouldn't _be your problem, that's why the Slayer and her crew exists. The Senior Partners are part of that world and normally never the twain would meet, except that your friend Herumor has started to stand on some supernatural toes which he didn't ought to stand on, including a group you know as the Grigori who they preferred to keep out of the picture, and the Senior Partners have begun to get the wind up."

Eönwë managed a grim smile. "I would have thought that the mutual aims and desires of both parties would match somewhat."

"You _would_ think that wouldn't you?" Whistler smiled jauntily back at him. "'Cept they don't. The Senior Partners rose to power in the background, behind the Old Ones, behind Melkor and they've become pretty powerful in a world which has slowly ceased to believe that the supernatural, great evil and magic exists which allows them to operate in that grey area which exists between their world and the world of the average human being. They like the world as it is... all of mankind's own petty evils, the wars, ignorance, want and suffering suits their purpose far more than a world without mankind and unfortunately the demise of mankind is Herumor's aim, or rather it's his boss's aim. The Senior Partners don't _want _mankind to be slaughtered, they want the status quo to remain as it is so they've sent their Liaison to tell Herumor to back away. The Powers That Be in the Timeless Halls don't want the boat rockin' either...and that's where _you _come in. It's why you're here. Your new purpose so to speak."

Eönwë stared at him and Whistler eventually had the grace to look away. "I already know that."

Whistler shook his head. "That's _not_ why you were sent here originally Lord Eönwë. You were sent here because the balance was all out of whack and they needed some big guns on the side of Light to bring it back into line. Bein' who and what you are and the fact that you're the Oathkeeper of Iluvatar and Eru's blue-eyed boy, they don't come much bigger. Herumor wasn't even a blip on the horizon when Eru decided to do that. Did you ever ask yourself why or how you've suddenly picked up a vampire and a couple of werewolves in your little group? They weren't originally meant to be part of your group here on earth any more than that pretty little wife of yours was meant to be." A dangerous glint appeared in Eönwë's dark blue eyes at the mention of Kim and Whistler held his hands up in supplication. "Not that I'm saying it's a bad thing, but Eru and the Powers had to think pretty quickly on their feet when they realised that your task was going to get a whole lot harder. So they had to give you folk who could _actually_ be of some use, hence the Eldar who came with you and yer man Maksim, who is slowly becomin' one of a very select group of vampires who have had their souls returned to them. There were only two others; Angelus who was ensouled by a Romany matriarch and William the Bloody aka Spike, who got himself ensouled by going through a set of trials. Both ultimately became champions of the Timeless Halls, just like the Slayer and like Maksim is becoming."

"I don't see how this all helps me in my task."

"It's not _meant_ to help you, just inform you. You weren't _meant_ to fight Herumor _or _Morgoth at all." Whistler said softly. "As I said just now you were meant to be here just as a presence for the Powers of the Light to offset the balance that had been disturbed by the actions of Morgoth as the First Evil, but because of the new darkness arising as a result of Herumor's actions on Morgoth's behalf and the Senior Powers unexpected intervention, the Powers That Be have decided with the agreement of the Valar that you should be put fully in the picture regarding them even though it's unlikely that you would ever meet them _or_ their Liaison." He shrugged. "So... consider yourself put in the picture... you should proceed with caution and be aware that everything either you or Herumor does is being watched by both sides. The whole situation is balanced on a knife edge, one wrong move from either side and the whole thing comes crashing down like a ton of bricks and then we're _all_ in the crap."

"Wonderful" Eönwë said dryly. "All of this makes my task _so_ much easier."

Whistler raised his own eyebrow. "Sarcasm doesn't really accomplish much Lord Eönwë."

Eönwë sighed. "It's sort of an end in itself really. I suppose I should thank you for the heads up."

The little Balance Demon chuckled. "Don't mention it... all part of the service. It only remains for me to wish you good luck. Be seeing you!" He nodded his head at the Herald.

"Not if I see you first." Eönwë muttered darkly, but his words fell on empty air. Whistler had dematerialised leaving the Herald standing in the middle of his dressing room while his wife stood sleepily in the doorway blinking owlishly at him.

"What in the world are you doing in here talking to yourself?" She asked crossly. "Come back to bed for heaven's sake... it''s only two o'clock in the morning."

ooOoo

**Endnote**

**"The Wolf, The Ram, and The Hart" **are the names of the members in an ancient trio of true demons. The group was at one point, before the time of man and Elves, considered relatively weak, and was not regarded as a threat. In my story verse, after the Valar's triumph over Melkor and the other demons, they remained and slowly gained power and influence, eventually leaving this dimension altogether. In the present day on Earth they are referred to as the **Senior Partners** by their employees, and enact _their_ will through various puppet organizations. One of the groups they command on Earth is the law firm of Wolfram & Hart.

While the Senior Partners themselves have left Earth's dimension, the source of Wolfram & Hart's power, the Home Office, still exists on Earth itself. Without the evil residing within every living person, the legacy of Arda Marred, the firm would not exist. In the Buffy and Angel universe the firm maintains offices in many major cities throughout the world. However, the only branch offices featured in the television series are in Los Angeles and Rome (both have identical interiors); in Italy the firm is known as Wolfram e Hart.

As a law firm, Wolfram & Hart typically defends unscrupulous and detestable clients, including stalkers, mobsters, murderers, corrupt senators, and a number of demonic individuals and groups. While many of these clients are rich or powerful, the firm is also known to work some cases pro bono, especially when it has a secondary interest in the client. The firm also maintains departments of Real Estate; Entertainment; Science; Research and Intelligence; and Interment Acquisitions (the firm's term for grave robbery).

Wolfram & Hart is known for its unforgiving treatment of its employees. The firm conducts random sweeps of employees, using telepaths to find workers who are disloyal to the company they pledged to work for. When discovered, these individuals are often executed on the spot. The Senior Partners are reputed to have forced employees to eat their own liver if unhappy with their performance. In another instance, several employees were reported to have been sacked with actual sacks. They have also permitted employees to execute and replace their superiors in light of poor performance, and it was once said by Knox (an employee) that on at least one occasion they literally terminated an employee ("He was fired. Oh, no, sorry, he was _set _on fire.").

Every 75 years, the firm conducts a review of its employees. During the Review, a Senior Partner takes corporeal form to punish employees who have shown unfavourable performance. Many employees live in fear of the Review, and in the days preceding it do whatever they can to endear themselves to the Senior Partners, including animal and human sacrifices. However, departmental heads at Wolfram & Hart can use discretion when dealing with insubordination. If a manager thinks highly enough of an employee, he or she may decide to forego punishment in favour of a second chance. Wolfram & Hart's employees often have a "perpetuity clause" in their contracts, meaning they remain with the firm even after their deaths.

Lindsey McDonald, who died at the hands of one of Angel's people, Lorne, in 'Not Fade Away', the last episode of Angel, was originally a young ambitious lawyer with Wolfram and Hart and indeed he also appeared in the very first episode of Angel in that capacity. However in my story, because his contract _also_ remains in perpetuity, after his body died they simply plucked his soul from the Void and sent him back as the Senior Partner's Liaison, hence his appearance in Herumor's offices. In the canonical magazine version of Angel the series Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, a Watcher (Slayer type) and former colleague of Angel is brought back as the liaison, although it had been suggested that they bring back Lindsey in zombie form in that capacity. Because I don't really want to get into the whole 'what happened to Angel and his people?' thing after the end of the series, I have chosen to just bring Lindsey back for that purpose.

In addition to the many legal functions the firm performs, Wolfram & Hart also maintains a Special Projects Division. Special Projects is responsible for a wide range of activities, from sponsoring high-profile charity events with the intention of stealing upwards of 95% of the funds raised, to hiring assassins to kill individuals deemed threatening to the Senior Partners.

In addition to its operations on Earth, Wolfram & Hart maintains a presence in a number of other dimensions. The region of the extra dimensional world of Pylea visited by Angel Investigations is ruled by priests known as the Covenant of Trombli. This group possesses a trio of holy texts emblazoned with a wolf, a ram, and a hart (red male deer) respectively. The Covenant has since been overthrown, and the full extent of Wolfram & Hart's influence on Pylea or in other dimensions is unknown; however, there are assumed to be many more, as Angel tells Spike in "A Hole in the World": "Wolfram & Hart has branches in every major city in the world, and a lot more out of it."

As you can see from the last part, this explains the sudden interest they are taking in Herumor's attempts to build an army and break his master, Morgoth, out of the Void. Up until now, the Senior Partners haven't really taken a great deal of interest in Morgoth's efforts, although those have certainly _not _gone unnoticed. The Senior Partners also, of course, are well aware of the Grigori's presence on earth, but because of their 'celestial' nature have been wary of them since they don't know just how much contact they have with their boss (God). However, Morgoth's attempt to leave the Void via the Sunnydale Hellmouth in the form of the First Evil was most certainly noticed by the Senior Partners as was his attempt to force his orcs through the rift in time in the Forest of Dean. They have now decided that Morgoth and therefore Herumor are 'persons of interest'. It remains to be seen whether they, or Morgoth, have met their match in each other.

At the moment Eönwë and his little band seem to be working just under the Senior Partners' radar, but that situation can't remain that way forever and with the subsequent visit by Lindsey to Herumor's office one could assume that their presence on earth is about to be rumbled. _**Ref: Wolfram & Hart, Wikipedia & additions by author of Dark Power Arising.**_


	69. Horror in the Deeps

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby. Any references to the world created by Joss Whedon belong to him.**

**Author Note: **Before I say thank you to reviewers and get on with the next chapter, this is just to let anyone who is reading the story know that the first 'taster' chapter of the next story in the Tales of the Modern Silmarillion series entitled **"The Hellmouth" **is up and is situated in the **Silmarillion Crossover section** for anyone who wishes to read it. This is because it is a crossover between Silmarillion and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, although the emphasis is primarily on the Silmarillion rather than Joss Whedon's show.

Thanks to those who reviewed and for those who just read, I hope you are enjoying the story.

Well it's just about time for the plot to speed up again. This is a shorter chapter than usual just to allow me to get my Moria head on. Unfortunately there had to be a bit of scene setting in preparation for the next story in the Tales of the Modern Silmarillion in the two previous chapters. Lindsey and Annatar aka Rupert Giles will be making a brief appearance again before the end of Dark Power, but the rest of the story is now dedicated to defeating Herumor who is about to try and pull his trump card. What is it? Well read on and see...

ooOoo

"The whale has another trick: when he is hungry, he opens his mouth and a sweet smell comes out. The fish are tricked by the smell and they enter into his mouth. Suddenly the whale's jaws close. Likewise, any man who lets himself be tricked by a sweet smell and led to sin will go into hell, opened by the devil — if he has followed the pleasures of the body and not those of the spirit. When the devil has brought them to hell, he clashes together the jaws, the gates of hell. No one can get out from them, just as no fish can escape from the mouth of the whale.[ "

_**- from the Old English poem "The Whale", the Exeter Book**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 69 - Horror in the Deeps**

**Moria **

The day had started well enough; very early in the morning Seth, Elrond, Thranduil and the others including young Arras and Orgrim himself had set out from Orgrim's encampment in the Twenty-first Hall, but not on foot this time. The Grigori from Vevey had brought some nifty looking four man dual powered buggies which were initially intended to draw trailers with the pumping equipment. However once the equipment was delivered to its final destination, the Waterworks deep in the depths of Moria, the buggies had a dual purpose of providing faster transport than Shanks' Pony. Thranduil had practised driving one round and round the parking area outside the dig, whooping with delight much to the amusement of all. Seth then ensured that all of them, including the almost 'Luddite-like' Elrond, were able to drive the vehicles.

Elrond and the others had been fascinated by the Waterworks. The engineer base, manned by the Grigori engineers and a group of Naugrim engineers from Orgrim's encampment was to be situated in a large area that stood well above the surrounding waters and buildings. It consisted of a large stone-built platform which overlooked the whole area with arches around the periphery and which opened out from one of the passages that led to the main corridors of Khazad-dûm.

From each of three of the corners wide stone steps with an ornamental balustrade on either side zig-zagged down to the bottom levels where in some places waters lapped at the edge of the paved areas. The stonework was still in good shape, although obviously very damp and slippery looking slime covered the lower parts of the staircases.

They had not yet explored the lower levels properly, but Orgrim and the other Naugrim were convinced that there were quite a few buildings some of which were directly below the platform they were setting up camp on. However in the wall at the side of the platform which did not look out over the Waterworks there were double doors of some dark wood set into the stone wall indicating some sort of rooms or storerooms. Seth and Thranduil had levered the doors open while Elrond and the others stood by with weapons at the ready just in case something nasty or untoward jumped out.

The area indeed proved to be a combined office, dining room and storage area. After the various creatures who had managed to find their way in and set up house there had been chased out, the human, Elven and Grigori usurpers were pleasantly surprised to find a large room with a large fireplace with cooking utensils and a sink of sorts still in place against one wall. Three large trestle tables with benches were set in front of the fireplace, some with plates, jugs and large mugs scattered on them as though whoever had last sat here had left hurriedly.

Elrond shot Thranduil and the other Elves a significant glance. "Orcs..." He muttered darkly. "...or worse perhaps."

Glorfindel nodded bleakly. He touched Seth on his arm. "There's a small winding staircase just beyond the fireplace. It looks as though there is another level."

Seth nodded. "I see it." He stood with his hands on his hips and looked around the room. "I think that this will serve nicely as a canteen and a storage area for those working down here. I imagine the place will look quite cheery once there's a roaring fire in the grate. We can probably set the field kitchen tents up just outside the door. We'll need to put up some security SOPs just in case whatever came the first time to cause destruction turns up again of course."

"Yes." Celebrimbor had his enthusiastic look on his face again. "There will be quarters above as well. I recognise the style of building." He pointed over to the other side of the large rectangular room which had wooden shelves fitted from ceiling to floor. "As you can see that part is the storeroom."

In the meantime Thranduil, Hal and a couple of the Kerubim had ventured upstairs at Seth's request. A few minutes later Hal came back down to report.

"Sleeping quarters." He said quietly. "And I think that they _were_ disturbed. It looks as though they were hit while some of the Dwarves were asleep and others were eating. The guys downstairs might have made it out, but the ones asleep." He shook his head grimly. "There are remains which are just about identifiable. Whoever killed them must have hacked them to pieces."

Radagast who had just arrived with a group of computer technicians gazed about him. "I am surprised that _anything_ remains at all, given that this must have happened millennia ago. Probably when the Naugrim were finally chased from Khazad-dûm in the Third Age."

"I doubt that anyone made it out of here alive." Glorfindel said softly, there was a saddened look in his eyes. "But the fire would have taken time to go out, perhaps the heat which would have pervaded the stones helped preserve the bodies to some degree and then once the cold and damp took over the bones began to disintegrate. I am no expert of course."

Seth sighed. "I think we had better get Richard to send a team of forensic archaeologists down here to sift through upstairs and bag what they find. Until they do that, we will seal the upstairs off, but we _will_ clean this area out. I think the archaeologists will be needed once the area has been pumped clear of water anyway."

He went outside the building and wandered around the platform, avoiding scurrying people everywhere. After doing a circuit he finally discovered that if he went halfway down one of the stone staircases he could get a radio signal and eventually managed to get Richard Hallam up on the radio.

"I guess we start sweeping then."

The corners of Thranduil's mouth turned upwards as they all were handed brooms by one of the Grigori who grinned at the dismay on their faces. The big German looked at his broom as though it would bite him, but after a few jibes were thrown at him, he joined in the cleaning with a smile and a good will.

"The hard work and menial labour starts here gentlemen." The Grigori who gave them the brooms said cheerfully and left the room whistling tunelessly to himself only to return a few moments later with some yellow crime scene tape which he proceeded to paste over the door to the upper level.

"Where did Elrond go?" Thranduil asked. The Peredhel was nowhere to be seen and had apparently left just behind Seth.

Carver Grissom pointed out of the door. "He went thataway mate. He was muttering something about the magnificence of the stonework and he'd spotted some writings carved into one of the archways? "

Elrond especially had been fascinated by the various buildings which could be seen half drowned under the waters and he was wandering around with a beatific smile on his face as he peered here, there and everywhere. Writings were indeed carved in Khuzdul at the top of each archway and he was happily trying to decipher what they were saying when an irate Thranduil appeared by his side.

It had been hard to drag him away, but dragged away he was by the very irritated Thranduil who unceremoniously thrust a broom in his hands and sternly pointed at the floors of the combined storeroom and canteen much to the amusement of everyone else. Elrond shamefacedly joined in the cleaning spree and soon the air was thick with flying witticisms and repartee to the extent where even the newcomer Grigori stopped to listen and laugh at it. Seth's team had bonded so closely that the relationship between them was one of ease and friendship and if Elrond ended up a little wet from all the surreptitious mop handling and comments of "Oops sorry Elrond, didn't see you there!" from everyone on the team including young Arras, he certainly took it in good part and even managed some retaliation. Once Seth had finished the call for archaeologists and came back in he was given the same treatment in which Elrond joined gleefully.

By the time they had made the large room relatively ship-shape and dust free, the encampment was set up and the engineers had started to put up the equipment and install the portable computer systems and generators that would run them. After a few hours of back-breaking work everything was complete. A virtual tent town had sprung up on the stone platform with lighting and all mod cons including the field kitchen which had already produced lunch which was served in a now cheerful dining area where a warming, cheerful fire now burned in the huge grate.

A number of Kerubim warriors were spread around on guard duty and the remainder had been divided into patrols for the area; given that some of the engineers would have to go down below the platform where the camp was to assess the water levels and the best positions to place the large flexible pipes for the pumps.

After a good lunch Seth decided with the agreement of all his team that they would press on. They consulted the only maps the Naugrim had and decided that if they left by the northern steps and kept to the areas underneath that had not been flooded, they would eventually come to another wide plaza with a monument to Durin behind which there once had been and perhaps still was a massive set of wrought iron gates. This would ultimately lead down to the rather disturbingly named Flaming Deeps.

Glorfindel drew in a breath at this point. "That sounds very much like a place that a Balrog would enjoy." He shivered slightly, but it was only noticeable to Seth and the Elves and perhaps Hal and Carver Grissom, neither of whom usually missed much.

Orgrim frowned. "Perhaps so Master Elf, but it is nowhere near the deepest part of Moria, although it _is_ deeper than the Redhorn Lodes. Deeper still is the Foundations of Stone. We had thought that perhaps all was flooded there, but it would seem by what you say that this is not the case."

Seth leaned over the map and his brows drew together in concentration. He traced his finger along a thin curving line drawn through the area of the Flaming Deeps, a line which eventually lifted sharply upwards as though going up stairs or up a steep slope. That line ended where the massive stone buildings of Khazad-dûm began again. He looked up at Celebrimbor who was also peering closely at the map.

"What do you think? Can we get through here?"

Celebrimbor pursed his lips and frowned in concentration as he dredged up memories of long ago. "I travelled into the Redhorn Lodes long ago, but we approached it from the other direction, from Durin's Hall. However..." He also traced his finger along the map and frowned at the drawing of the map. Many of the carefully drawn symbols and lines had begun to fade with age and sometimes it was difficult to see whether something was a line meant to be a path, or just a fold in the paper.

"Yes." He finally said with a note of excitement in his voice. "There was a security encampment there in the old days for the miners, I think it was called The Watchpost. It was staffed with a very small group of Naugrim warriors, a couple of merchants who sold mining equipment and other stores like emergency food rations and I believe there was a healer stationed there as well." He grinned widely. "I am _sure_ of it. Through the encampment and down a number of flights of wide stone stairs you eventually come to the buildings around the periphery of the Redhorn Lodes. There were tracks laid down for the vehicles which carried the ore to the refineries which were also located there. From there if one was to walk to the east and keep going in a circle, one would eventually come to the mouth of a large cavern, down that cavern is the foundations of stone and the very lowest point of Moria."

Glorfindel stared at him, fascinated. "Did you actually go _down_ to this foundations of stone?"

Celebrimbor shook his head. "No...it was considered to be too dangerous. Only a few of the Naugrim had ventured down that far and very few had returned. It was only my curiosity that led Narvi and the others to show me that place, they only went as far as the refineries as a general rule and thought me quite mad to want to go further. They said that great danger and creatures such as had never seen the light of day before lurked there."

Orgrim nodded enthusiastically. "Yes... yes, _indeed._ A very dangerous place. However, as much as it pains me to say it, I believe that what you seek is down there and whoever ventured down there to set up this orc cloning place or whatever you call it, is more than capable of commanding those creatures. Else how could they prevail?"

"So the next question is... do we walk, or will the vehicles carry us along that path? At least as far as this Watchpost place?" Seth asked.

"A couple of the larger vehicles are tracked." One of the English members of the team, a man called Alan Walker, pointed out. "They're pretty much all terrain vehicles anyway and we'd get to where we need to be a lot faster. They may not get up and down stairs though, unless the stairs were quite shallow."

Eventually it was decided that they would take the two tracked vehicles which would easily take the whole team plus two drivers and their packs and weapons. Two of the Kerubim would drive and it was unanimously decided that when they reached a point where the path would not allow for vehicles then the Kerubim would drive them back to the Waterworks.

Seth sent Thranduil, Glorfindel, Hal and Carver down to recce the areas under the stone platform to make sure that there was a wide enough path and strong enough to hold the weight of the tracked vehicles. They arrived back just as the others had finished loading up the vehicles.

"There's quite a sizeable paved area down below." Thranduil announced as they came up the north stairs. "As far as we can see, the south steps go straight down to the water's edge and there is no path up to the huge waterwheels...well not that we could see from where we were standing. There may be one through the passages that lead to here. Directly in front as we reach the bottom of the north stairs there is a large plaza with what possibly used to be large flower beds. There is long double storey building on left with barred windows and a large archway in the middle of it. We'll have to go through the archway because once you reach the end of the building, there is no way down. It ends in a low wall with iron railings set into it which runs right around. The water laps down below. Once through the archway there is a fountain, no longer working of course, and the buildings form a sort of quadrangle but there is only one way out, to the right of the fountain. Once through the quadrangle there are just large paved areas with what seem to be very large square pools and arched passageways joining up large buildings which have now become islands in the middle of the water."

"Do any of the buildings look usable?" Orgrim asked eagerly.

Thranduil looked doubtful. "I really couldn't say Master Orgrim. The water certainly hasn't reached the buildings in the quadrangle. The stonework was dry enough. I imagine that the buildings themselves were the residences of whoever was in charge of this part of Moria...the Chief Engineer possibly. I'm sure that if you took some of your engineers and some of the warriors you could soon gain entry to see what condition they are in."

"What surprised me is that whoever was resident down here seemed to have time to lock everything up before they took flight." Glorfindel commented.

"And the fountain was actually turned off." Hal interjected. "It looks as though the important folk had warning of some kind and literally just left and locked up after themselves"

Orgrim looked grim. "It would seem that the danger presented itself long before the last flight. Durin must have ordered a general evacuation and perhaps those who were on this level were the last to go because they were the ones who were shutting all the machinery down."

"I think that's a very astute perception Master Orgrim." Seth squeezed the dwarf's shoulder sympathetically. "From what we have seen so far, there was definitely an evacuation of _some_ kind. I certainly would have feared for those who may have been left behind and how would you know whether all had heeded the call to evacuate?"

Orgrim wiped a tear from his cheek and his voice was gruff. "I only hope that they had the sense to make sure the females and younglings got out long before the end. There is no future without them."

"The remnants of the Moria Naugrim, including women and children managed to escape." Elrond said calmly. "Many of them left in small groups as Moria grew more and more dangerous."

Thranduil nodded. "Aye, many came as refugees through the woods and headed towards Laketown. I remember it well."

Arras goggled at the two ancient Elves. It seemed absolutely wondrous and not a little bit terrifying that these Elves had actually been alive when these events had taken place. What stories they could tell. He had tried to get Celebrimbor to speak of the ancient times, but the Elf had merely gazed at him with those glinting, bright silvery-grey eyes and smiled. Arras sometimes got the impression that his Elf Friend had some very bad memories of those times and he resolved not to ask the awkward questions that often rose to his lips for fear of hurting Celebrimbor.

Still, there was a mystery to be heard, for sure and perhaps Master Elrond or the terrifying, larger than life, former Elven King of Mirkwood or that golden warrior who slew the Balrog could give him a hint as to its nature. What wonderful tales he would have to tell around the camp-fire to the others, already his stature had risen among his contemporaries because the bright being Seth had included him in his team. Arras thought he would burst with pride when Seth had laughingly included him. His father had wrinkled his brows in confusion and asked the tall Grigori leader whether he was sure that Arras wouldn't be a nuisance. Arras had nearly choked from the delight when Seth had replied that the team was incomplete without him. Celebrimbor's eyes had been brimful of laughter when all Arras could do was beam and mumbled unintelligibly into his beard.

"You have earned your place with us little Master Dwarf." The Elf had teased. "And I for one would not have it any other way."

Yes, he would ask that kindly Master Elrond who always treated him with courtesy about the history of Celebrimbor but right now all he had to do was to take his place in the wondrous cart-with-no-horses alongside the rest of the team who also treated him as one of them. He had heard that the race of Men were tall, hard-hearted, selfish and cruel. These men were tough, but they had gentle hearts.

After the maps had been rolled up and stowed away in Seth's pack and after the farewells from Orgrim, Radagast and those remaining behind at Waterworks Central, as the place had been nicknamed, they were finally on their way to the depths of Moria.

ooOoo

**The Watchpost, just above the Redhorn Lodes, Moria**

"This is just crazy." Carver Grissom's voice split the stunned silence. "I mean I don't l_ike _these creatures, orcs or whatever you guys call them, they're just travesties of living creatures, but _nobod_y deserves this."

His voice interrupted the appalled silence that had fell on the team as they ascended the final set of low stone steps that led to the upper levels and grandiose buildings which perched high above the Flaming Deeps. The tracked vehicles had easily ascended the wide, low stairs which zig-zagged up the steep wall, but had to be brought to a halt.

In front of the horrified and speechless team lay bodies of orcs, hundreds upon hundreds of them, all in varying sizes, ranging from young to adult, slashed to ribbons, some just torsos as if a giant had picked them up and carefully torn their limbs off one at a time. They had been alive when that torture was endured because it showed in the horror stricken, ravaged expressions on the heads that lay about the place.

"Jesus H Christ on a crutch." Hal whispered.

"I couldn't have said it better myself." Thranduil said grimly.

"Are any of them alive?" Elrond was the practical one as far as healing was concerned. He had never envisaged himself healing an orc of any kind, but the fact that there were young among them roused a frisson of pity inside him.

Seth had gone very quiet, but he gestured at the two Kerubim who had accompanied them and they moved forward silently. As they did so they reminded Elrond of nothing so much as two serpents with their elongated features, burning hooded eyes and unnaturally fluid movements. They moved through the carnage with a dangerous elegance until they reached the remains of what had been wooden barriers then they returned.

"I believe we have found the Watchpost Lord Seth." One of them spoke courteously to Seth and inclined his head. "The dead are littered throughout and we can find none living. They have all been dead for at least a day. What are your orders?"

Seth sighed deeply. "We clear a path for the vehicles and press on. There is nothing we can do for any of them now. However we now need to proceed very carefully. Whatever killed these, may still be around."

The stakes had just been upped, something new, or at the very least something old and unknown, and very nasty had entered the fray. And whatever it was, it was certainly not on Herumor's or anyone else's side by the look of it. It had its own agenda entirely.

Seth wasn't the only one of the team who felt that something hideously awful, extremely ancient and monstrously powerful was lying in wait.

ooOoo


	70. From Beneath You It Devours

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby. Any references to the world created by Joss Whedon belong to him.**

**Author Note: **

Many apologies for the delay in putting up this chapter of Dark Power, this is due to some rather horrible real life happenings and my mind simply wouldn't' relax enough for me to write. Another reason for the delay is that these final chapters are proving difficult to put down on paper. I know what I want to say and where I want it to go, but my brain is proving annoying in that it refuses to put it down in a rational manner. I think weariness has something to do with that. Hopefully things will be better when my son comes back and life goes back to something approaching normal!

**NB:** The new story in the series entitled **The Hellmouth** is now in the main Silmarillion section for ease of reading for anyone who enjoyed the first two stories and wishes to read the third. Just in case readers are reading it as a standalone, which is fine, I will put a recap from Dark Power Arising of the relevant information which takes you into The Hellmouth.

ooOoo

""You think you can fight me? I'm not a demon, little girl. I am something that you can't even conceive. The First Evil. Beyond sin, beyond death. I am the thing the darkness fears. You'll never see me, but I am everywhere. Every being, every thought, every drop of hate- "

_**- The First Evil**_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 70 – From Beneath You It Devours**

**Somewhere in the North West of Scotland...**

Sleep had never been the easiest of states for him to achieve. At first it was quite an alien concept for him to understand at all; this body's need for insensibility for a few hours. When he had been at the Watcher's training academy he had pulled all-nighters in the library, diving deep into the most ancient, long-winded and esoteric works he could find among the priceless books on the shelves in the hopes of dulling his senses long enough that sleep would overtake him. When that didn't work, he used Scotch on the rocks and puffed his way through cigarette after cigarette.

He leaned on the wide window sill and laughed softly at a sudden memory of times long past, so long past as to be back in earth's pre-history. How the mighty had fallen... he remembered feeling amusement at Manwe's servant Olorin in his Istari form puffing on that interminable, smelly pipe... and the hobbits' love for their beloved pipe-weed. He chuckled at the realisation that in his human, mortal form he had been almost as addicted as Mithrandir had been to tobacco, then he sighed...what he wouldn't give for a smoke right now. Unfortunately those around him didn't indulge in the habit and wrinkled their noses in disapproval at anyone who did.

So instead he stood at the window in his darkened room and stared out across the sleeping land. They were fairly remote here in the wilds of Scotland, which had suited all of them. They had needed time to regroup and organise themselves after the tumultuous events of a few years ago and this relative isolation was ideal for that purpose. He loved it here, normally the peace of the remote Scottish countryside acted as balm to his soul, but tonight he was restless and he had no idea why.

Noises from below indicated that some members of the household were returning. It never failed to fascinate him how a group of lithe, athletic and graceful young women could end up sounding like an orc army complete with ill fitting hobnail boots as they pounded up the stairs and headed for bathrooms and then bed. Not for the first time he thanked the Lord that he shared a bathroom with only one other male.

As he walked past the small table which stood by his comfortable overstuffed armchair by the fireplace he saw the half drunk glass of Scotch. He hesitated for a moment, hand hovering over the glass but his eye was caught by the dull smouldering in the fireplace. He by-passed the drink and went to poke the fire until small flames licked the coals and wood. A spark jumped out at him and smouldered on the rug in front of the fireplace. He grimaced and stamped it out with one slippered foot. Fire was not his friend these days. In fact he had a horror of it and stamped enthusiastically on the spark until it was nothing but a sooty black stain. He bent down and emptied the small scuttle of coal on the fire, banking it up so that it would still be alight in the morning. Scottish mornings were bitter and the winds speared through any chinks in the windows. Quite different from the mornings in California where he had woken up to warm sunshine every morning. Oddly enough he still felt safer here in the cold and damp than he ever had in the warm, dry climate of Southern California.

He lifted up the glass and drained it off the liquor almost as an afterthought. A familiar feeling of lassitude was creeping through his body and he recognised the first signs that sleep was almost upon him. If only he didn't have to have this nightly battle with it. He slipped out of his navy blue terry towelling robe and draped it over the chair, then, dressed in a tee-shirt and a pair of what some of the girls called 'farting pants' but what he called pyjama bottoms, he slipped under the warmth of the continental quilt, snuggled down and switched off the bedside lamp. His breathing soon became deep and regular and he slipped into the world of dreams.

...only to wake up a short time later with a cry and a start.

For a moment he didn't know where he was. He had been dreaming that he was stumbling around in some dark place searching for something. It was an important something, but in the way of dreams he couldn't quite put his finger on what it actually was. All he knew was that the landscape he was stumbling through was inhospitable and cold. High saw-toothed mountain crags reared above him and he felt tiny and insignificant next to them. Still half asleep he fumbled around on his night stand for his glasses and the switch for the lamp. He found the glasses and settled them on his nose and was just about to press the switch when his attention was caught by a figure of a female standing patiently at the end of the bed.

"My god...at _last._ I thought you were _never_ going to wake up."

The soft lips pouted, the pert nose wrinkled, the small chin tilted upwards and the long honey-blonde hair was tossed back in a gesture _very_ familiar to him. His lips immediately set in a straight line and his eyes narrowed behind the wire frames of his glasses. The gestures and the appearance might well be familiar, but the person _he_ knew they truly belonged to would never have just walked into his room in the middle of the night. Not without knocking or an invitation; unless she had knocked of course and he had just not heard her. A frown knitted his brows together and he opened his mouth, only to be forestalled by her speaking again.

"No...you were right the first time. I'm not her..." The figure lifted one slim shoulder in a shrug. "But I needed to talk to you and since I can't take corporeal form, I thought I would borrow her persona" She pouted even more at the steely anger that had replaced confusion in his pale blue eyes. "Aww, don't be mad at me. I thought you'd be glad to see me."

His insides had frozen solid rendering him incapable of speech. This was an apparition he had thought they were well rid of. Not that this particular being could actually be killed per se, but they _had_ vanquished it. She smiled and it hurt his teeth like nails across a chalkboard to see the horrible parody of the genuine, bright smile he knew so well.

"What the fuck do _you _want?" He finally managed to grind out between clenched teeth.

She drew her perfectly plucked eyebrows together in a frown. "Now, now Ripper...is that what they call you these days? Language...here you are teaching young ladies and you don't want to be teaching them bad words now do you?" She took a step towards him and he was incensed with himself when he shrank back against the headboard of the bed. She giggled when he swore again and jumped out of bed putting the armchair between them. "Are you scared of me Ripper? Or shall I call you Sauron?"

He could feel an icy trickle of sweat between his shoulder blades. The other shoe dropped with a clang.

"What are you?" His question spilled out of his frozen lips, but deep inside he knew _exactly_ what and who this apparition was and the knowledge filled him with icy horror.

She sighed deeply. "I am _so _disappointed in you Sauron. I was delighted when they didn't send you to the Void because I _really _needed someone capable on the outside...that idiot minion of yours Herumor is really screwing things up. Then they got to you, Raguel, Michael and those morons from the Timeless Halls. Really I am amazed that you listened to a bunch of idiots who couldn't find their assholes with both hands _and _a flash light. What was amazing is that you did so well on your own after they got rid of me, until that hell-spawn brat nurtured by the descendant of that bloody nuisance Luthien put an end to you. I had high hopes for you..._really_ I did. I was rooting for you from the other side. I can't _tell_ you how disappointed I am."

For the first time in this wholly surreal conversation Dr Rupert Giles, once a minion and lieutenant of Morgoth Bauglir in another lifetime, managed to find a firm foothold. He straightened up and stared at his visitor, one eyebrow raised slightly and he took his glasses off and polished them on his tee shirt, more out of habit than whether they actually _needed_ cleaning.

"Actually..." He said mildly, peering through the lenses and then popping them back on the bridge of his nose. "Actually...it _wasn't_ Aragorn, son of Arathorn who put an end to me. It was a creature by the name of Gollum, or Smeagol was his given name. He destroyed my ring of power by falling into the fires of Mount Doom and set me free."

"_Whatever._.." She managed to get an entire world of bored Valley Girl into that one word. "It doesn't really matter though, because I _am _going to be free. That idiot Herumor has actually stumbled on something rather interesting. My future is looking up and I thought...silly old me... that_ you_ might be fed up with all this do-gooding and would want to get some real power behind you. Aren't you sick to death of following that whiny little Slayer as she totters around on her six inch Manolo Blahniks yet? Are you _completely_ pussy-whipped? Here I am offering you an opportunity to grow a pair and you are splitting hairs with me!"

Giles was now fully awake and alert. "What _exactly_ is this thing that Herumor has stumbled on?" He asked cautiously. "In order for _you_ to be free you need a Hellmouth. Sunnydale is closed for business and my Slayers hold the one in Cleveland."

She waved her small hand at him. "Oh no you don't. You're not going to get information out of me like that, not without a_ little _something in return."

She sidled up to him and made as if to rub her hand on his forearm, except that of course being incorporeal she couldn't. The First Evil could not take corporeal form and only appeared in the persona of someone who had already died. Even so he made a moue of disgust as she gazed up at him and batted her eyelashes flirtatiously.

"Why Giles...have you been working out?" She purred at him.

He gritted his teeth and took a step back, but saw the swift flash of hideous rage in her eyes at his gesture of rejection.

"You are going to be _so_ sorry you did that, you...you _ingrate._" She snarled and for a second the persona of his Slayer Buffy wavered and he saw the hideous blackness behind it. "I _am _going to be free and when I am I am going to slit that girl of yours open like a ripe peach and bathe in her blood. Then I will come for you..."

Then she was gone, leaving him standing behind the chair, heart thudding painfully in his chest. He knew for Melkor or the First Evil as he was now known to appear at all had to mean that the barriers between dimensions were weakening and nowhere were they weaker than an actual Hellmouth. He picked up his phone and dialled long distance to Cleveland, Ohio. After only two rings the line was picked up on the other side and he heard the deep reassuring tones of Robin Wood, the watcher who was in charger of the Cleveland Hellmouth.

"There's been no extra activity at all Giles." Robin sounded puzzled. "Everything's been real calm this end. Just the normal stuff...a few vamps... a couple of demons. Kennedy and the others regularly patrol and they've reported nothing out of the ordinary. Is there something I should know about?"

Giles hesitated. "I'm not sure Robin, but could you let me know if anything at all occurs that might be out of the ordinary...er...I mean_ mor_e out of the ordinary than it usually is?"

"Sure thing...no problem at all."

Giles hung up the receiver and tapped his teeth with his forefinger thoughtfully. Then he slipped on a sweater, a pair of jeans and his shoes and headed for the library in the depths of the old mansion they called home. He needed to do some research.

Three hours later, as the library clock sounded five 'o clock in the morning he straightened up in his chair. He drew the map of Switzerland close to him and traced a finger along the Alps. In front of him on the computer screen was an article about an important dig site near the Great St Bernard Pass. He flicked onto another window which also had a news article about a small village in Devon which had been subject to what the media and authorities called 'a terrorist attack'. This article was accompanied by a rather grainy photograph of the personnel who had been in attendance in the aftermath of the attack. There standing by a police range rover was a tall figure that he recognised immediately. He sat back in his chair and mentally assimilated all the information he had dredged up from the ancient books around him and the internet, then he reached for the phone again. He sat impatiently waiting for someone to answer on the other side and when it did he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not.

"Major-General Matthew's residence." A calm clear voice answered. A voice which wasboth musical and beautiful.

"I am so sorry to bother you at this time of the morning, but it is _really_ important that I speak to the General urgently. My name is Dr Rupert Giles."

The person on the other side hesitated slightly and he half expected them to ask him if he knew what time it was. Instead they replied calmly and courteously as if frantic phone calls from strangers in the early hours of the morning was a normal occurrence.

"Of course Dr Giles. Please hold the line and I will get the General for you."

There was a few moments of silence and then he heard footsteps and low voices. Then the receiver was picked up and a deep, golden-toned voice spoke.

"Hello? This is General Matthews."

"Eönwë? Is that you?" Giles blurted out.

ooOoo

**The Moria Archaeological dig site, Switzerland, present day..**

Dusk fell and then swiftly turned to darkness. Most of the land in the valley below the road leading up to the Great St Bernard Pass in Switzerland was given over to farming or small villages. Prior to the dig site being set up and when the Pass was open for traffic travelling into Italy, the roads in the area were heavily used, but now few other vehicles other than local cars or farm traffic travelled them. On one hand the local people were happy for the peace, although some who relied on the tourists weren't entirely convinced. On the other hand the farming community were not so happy given that their produce had to travel a lot further along to one of the other main passes crossing over the the Alps to their further destinations, thereby pushing transport costs up.

Usually there were a few folk about in the early evenings, but once the night came and the temperatures dropped livestock were put in the barn and doors were firmly closed against the night. Only a few of the more nocturnal creatures like cats and the occasional dog remained outside. This evening was no exception, certainly not for the family who lived in the house closest to the base of the road going up the Pass itself. It was only when the frantic scratching of the family cats at the door happened that the man of the house realised something wasn't quite right. He was even more convinced after he opened the door and his cats plus two of the cats from a neighbouring house shot inside and could not be convinced to come out from under the large wooden dresser. No amount of coaxing would do the job and all the man got for his troubles was a medley of hisses and a badly scratched hand.

He went to the door and opened it but remembered to take the gun he used for small vermin with him. Something had spooked the animals very badly. He stood in the yellow light pooled on the small porch and peered around him. A rustling noise alerted him from the left, but it was only a rabbit. He watched as the small animal sped back into the bushes and was about to close the door and head back to the warmth of the house when he spotted a pair of glowing amber eyes glowering through the darkness. Usually he would have made some noise to chase whatever animal they belonged to away, but something about those eyes made him stop and reconsider his actions. He felt a shiver ice its way along his spine as he regarded his nocturnal visitor, this was no animal...or at least no animal he had ever encountered. Animals could be highly intelligent of course, but their eyes did not look so...well...human or did he mean inhuman? The creature did not move from its place in the darkness and he did not move from his spot on the porch. He swallowed past a sudden hard ball in his throat as he heard a distinct low growl emanate from the half hidden creature. Slowly...very slowly indeed...he began to back away until he stood in the actual doorway. The eyes moved closer and he could now make out a massive shadowy form attached to them and his now hammering heart nearly ceased to beat altogether. This was like no animal he was familiar with or had even ever seen. His hip bumped sharply against the sturdy door jamb as he back pedalled into the house causing him to draw in his breath with a hiss of pain. His legs felt like they weighed a ton and he staggered against a small table that stood beside the door._ Whatever _was outside in his yard it was not right. He slammed the door shut and bolted it just as he saw the creature or whatever it was move so fast across the yard it was just a dark blur.

A heavy thud against the thick wooden door made him scuttle backwards and he fell into the chair he had been sitting on earlier while drinking his nightcap before turning in. Upstairs he heard the bed creak and shift as his wife registered the dull noise in her sleep and turned over.

In the ensuing silence all he could hear was the thudding of his heart. The silence would have been comforting if it hadn't been for the sheer clarity of understanding brought on by hypervigilance which told him that just as _he_ was trying not to make a sound, but straining to hear, so there was also a creature on the other side of that heavy door doing exactly the same thing.

Eventually after what seemed like hours to the poor farmer, but was actually only a couple of minutes, he heard a soft snuffling noise as if the creature was trying to ascertain the scents of whoever was in the house. The farmer did not need to turn his head to know that the cats were still huddled underneath the dresser in breathless silence. He prayed that none of his family would come down. Something deep in his psyche knew that if they did that creature would hurl itself at the door and it would be the family's last day on this good earth.

The snuffling noise stopped and the deathly, fearful silence resumed. The farmer dared not even breathe lest the soft sound alerted the creature outside. Then, just as he felt his lungs would burst into flames, there was a low, yet carrying, howl from outside and a few seconds later there was an answering howl from the thing crouched outside the door. The farmer sensed rather than heard the creature leave and he finally let out the breath he had been holding for so long. He collapsed like a deflated balloon, weak knees giving way as he crumpled into a kneeling position on the stone flags of the kitchen floor. Tears of relief trickled down his cheeks and when he saw the cats slink from their hiding place under the dresser he knew that the creature outside the door had left.

Far above the valley floor the dig site guards stood their vigil outside the entrance to the ancient city of the Naugrim. The guards were, for the most part, trained security but had recently been bolstered by the arrival of more Kerubim from Vevey. The guard commander was now a Grigori Kerubim and he was a hard taskmaster. Because of this the roaming patrol guard on this particular night had cautiously moved a little further down from his routine patrolling path in order to light up a cigarette.

As events were to turn out, his deviation from his patrol path would be a good, not a bad, thing since the place in which he had concealed himself with his surreptitious cigarette gave him a vantage point over the road and the steep craggy slopes. If he had not been there then things may have gone a lot worse for the dig site staff currently resting in their trailers, apart from a couple of archaeologists and technicians who were hard at work putting in some late hours.

The Kerubim Commander, a Grigori called Saul, was sitting in his trailer writing up reports. The remains of a meal sat on the desk beside him alongside a mug of tea. He was deep in thought when a frantic knocking at the trailer door made his head rear up.

"Come." He ordered sharply and the door flew open. His visitor practically fell in through the opening and Saul stood up, instantly alert. "What is it?"

The guard swallowed furiously and tried to get his breath. Saul calmly handed him the half drunk tea and the guard gulped it down so fast that some dribbled down the front of his jacket.

"Things...things like huge animals coming up the pass." He finally managed to get out.

"Like very large wolves?" Saul's question was sharp and to the point.

The guard nodded frantically.

"How far away are they?" He was already picking up his radio.

"About halfway up." Beads of sweat were clinging to the guard's deathly pale skin. "Maybe about another thirty minutes before they get here, they were moving pretty fast."

Fifteen minutes later the entire dig site staff, sleepy, hastily dressed and utterly confused were assembled in the First Hall. Saul had already contacted his opposite number in charge of the Naugrim encampment in the Twenty-first Hall and also Seth and his group currently at the Watchpost near the Redhorn Lodes. In a very short time the entire archaeological team right down to the chefs and cleaning staff were trooping as silently as possible through a now well worn path through to the Twenty-first Hall where matters would be reassessed and a decision made to evacuate them and the Naugrim all safely from what had apparently been designated a battleground. The only people left behind, concealed from all were three Kerubim who would eventually also travel deeper into Moria and join the rapidly forming battle group.

Finally when all evacuation plans were in operation Seth contacted Joaquim at Vevey and Eönwë in England.

ooOoo

**The Watchpost, Mines of Moria, present day...**

"I don't think heading back to the Twenty-first Hall is an option." Seth had finished briefing the group and had thrown open the floor for comments.

Elrond pursed his lips and glanced over at Glorfindel and Thranduil. "I agree. Getting entrenched in the Naugrim encampment, no matter how easily defended it is, will serve no purpose. They could hold us there indefinitely while they wreak havoc. Herumor has sent his troops in for a reason. Something has happened to make him do that."

Seth rubbed his chin thoughtfully and looked around him. Where there had been piles of orc bodies and body parts previously there were now pungent and slow burning funeral pyres. "Yes... perhaps something to do with all of this." He waved a hand at the pyres."

"Could there be something down here that somebody wants to remain hidden?" Carver asked. "I mean, it's not likely that this Herumor destroyed his own orc cloning operation and why would anyone else take the time to come all the way down here_ just _to destroy it? Unless it was interfering with something that wasn't supposed to be interfered with?"

Seth looked at Celebrimbor. "Any ideas? After all you were here long before any of the rest of us and you travelled quite deep. Is there anything at all you can remember, something that the ancient Naugrim spoke about at the time?"

Celebrimbor shook his head. "Nothing comes to mind." He said sadly. "Other than the fact that very few of the Naugrim would go into the Foundations of Stone. The only thing they would say about it was that it was an evil place. They said that the very air reeked of evil and danger."

Arras cleared his throat and then blushed as all eyes turned to him. He harrumphed again.

"There is an old nursery tale which the mothers used to tell their children." He said hesitantly. "It used to scare us all when we were young, but we all assumed that they thought of it because they didn't want us to go exploring."

Elrond smiled encouragingly at the young Dwarf. "Then let us hear it Master Dwarf. Any information may be of help to us."

Arras shifted uncomfortably when he saw that he had everyone's attention.

"Well...it was about a young dwarf who couldn't settle down to his chosen profession and wanted to look for adventure. Against advice from the Elders he travelled far in the mines and met all these creatures along the way, some who guided him and others who misled him. He listened to the wrong advice and found himself lost deep in the depths of what we call the Foundations of Stone. He wandered for days, half-crazed with hunger and thirst among the rocks and deep caves until he finally came across a large circular cavern the floor of which was inlaid with a most marvellous carved metal floor which reached almost wall to wall. Even though he was weary and hungry and wanted to turn back, he was still curious and went to investigate. As he walked across the metal floor, careful not to disturb anything, he was surprised to see that a large wooden table had appeared in the middle of the floor. The table was groaning with every kind of food and drink imaginable. Roast meat, loaves of bread...flagons of ale...sweetmeats, pastries and other fancies. He forgot all about being cautious, he forgot the warnings given to him. His hunger overtook him and he ran to the table and sat down eating as much of the food as he could and stuffing some of the bread and cakes into his pockets for the way back. He didn't stop to question where the table and the food had come from and there was nobody around to ask or who even _could _have prepared it."

Arras paused in the telling and took a drink from his water flask before continuing.

"Finally he took an apple from the large fruit platter in the middle of the table and used the small silver fruit knife which was lying beside it and started to peel. Unfortunately he wasn't careful and the knife slipped and cut his right thumb. He jumped up in fright and took up a white napkin to staunch the bleeding, but it wouldn't stop and some of the blood dripped down onto the metal floor. At first nothing happened, then he heard a sound as if gargantuan wheels and machinery was grating into action below his very feet. This made him even more frightened and he ran across the metal floor as quickly as he could but when he reached the place where the entrance had been before it wasn't there. There was just a sheer rock face. He turned in panic and saw that the table had disappeared and in its place stood a hideously ancient cadaverous creature dressed in grey rags. He begged the creature to open the entrance and let him out, but the creature was silent and merely beckoned him to come to him. He did so and as he walked he saw that the metal floor was now like a barred metal grille and beneath him were vicious flames and unspeakably hideous creatures writhing within them. The creature said nothing until the Dwarf reached him, then he reached out and grasped him by his chin in a grip so strong the Dwarf could do nothing to free himself. The creature uttered spells in a guttural language the Dwarf had not heard before and as he did so the grey rags fell away from his body which immediately then crumbled to dust. The metal grille beneath him grated shut and hid the flames and creatures beneath. The Dwarf was terrified at first, but then a great lassitude came upon him, he fell onto the floor in a deep swoon and a voice from around him spoke."

"_Thou hast my eternal gratitude for my release from my long servitude for those who must remain Unnamed. I pass the task of guarding this place to thee. Do not leave thy post for any reason, either of coercion or entreaty. Do not try to leave the cavern else thou wilt turn to dust. When the time is right One will come to release thee from thy task as thou has released me from mine."_

"The figure of a very tall being shimmered in front of him. It bowed thrice and then disappeared leaving the the Dwarf alone in the cavern. When he looked down at himself he was dressed in a grey hooded robe." Arras shivered slightly and he dropped his voice. "It is said that he is _still _there, guarding that which shall remain unnamed for those who must remain unnamed. It's just a story though. At least I _think_ it is... Our mothers used to threaten us that if we went a-roving too far then it would be _us _who would take his place as the guardian."

Thranduil turned to Seth with his eyebrows raised. "All right, so let's look at this tale rationally. A large metal covering for something unspeakably horrible below it surrounded by flames which can only be opened by the shedding of blood. What does that sound like to you?"

"It sounds like a Hellmouth to me." Eönwë's voice cut in smoothly and they all turned to find him, Maedhros, Haldir and Finrod standing behind them all dressed for battle and armed to the teeth. "Is Radagast not with you?"

Seth shook his head. "He went back with the vehicles to the Waterworks and has not yet returned. The others?"

"The last report I heard before I brought us here was that Joaquim and Sariel were on their way here, Maglor, Elladan, Draugluin and Jeff are with them. The entrance in the Pass itself is now guarded by Herumor's people and we will have a problem getting everyone inside without a fight. Maksim is speaking with his contacts among the covens to see whether there is a way of getting people here without having to fight their way through. He, Chief Knowles, Alun and Jim will join up with Joaquim and his people. Jan will remain with Kim, Celebrian, Nerdanel and Allie. Lord Manwe has sent four warrior Maiar to guard them in my absence. If things go badly then the Valar will transport them all to Valinor."

Seth nodded. "Okay. Well from our side Joaquim got a message through to me. The Kerubim which Saul put on the entrance are now in the Twenty-first Hall with the dig site people and the Naugrim apart from one who will remain at the entrance and report from there...and did I hear you mention a Hellmouth?"

Eönwë smiled grimly. "Yes... there are three that we know of on earth. One in California in the town of Sunnydale which sank into a crater about five years ago, one in Cleveland, Ohio which is guarded by the Slayers and one which was thought to be in Europe but its exact whereabouts were unknown...until now. They each had a seal over them, the one in Sunnydale was called the Seal of Danzalthar and the European one is the Seal of Kal. The name of the seal in Cleveland is currently unknown. The Hellmouths themselves are areas on earth where the barriers between this dimension and the dimension called the Void are worn thin. They generally attract all manner of evil and occasionally evil creatures escape into this world."

"The Balrog." Glorfindel murmured softly.

Eönwë smiled at him. "It is possible, but I believe that the Balrog was a remnant from Melkor's army who fled there, however it would have been an ideal place for it to go to ground and recharge. We now believe that the third Hellmouth is here in the depths of Moria and is covered with the Seal of Kal which is reputedly the seventh seal mentioned in the Book of Revelations. If the seal were to be opened it would be an incredibly bad thing. It would open the way for all the evil currently residing in the Void, including Melkor. It would effectively be the end of mankind on earth or at the very least the enslavement of all mankind. I rather suspect that Melkor was unaware of this at first and ordered Herumor to produce his orc army down there because it was out of the way until the Senior Partners decided to step in and put a stop to it. Now Melkor knows that the Seal of Kal is there. He wants to take possession of it. If he gets to it first he will destroy the guardian and it will left unguarded, then he will open it. Unfortunately for him and possibly fortunately for us he will still not be able to take corporeal form. However I believe that once Herumor arrives he will be able to perform a ritual that will allow Melkor's spirit to infuse with his body. This, gentlemen, is where the battle will take place."

"Well once the civilians are evacuated my Kerubim will join us, although from the numbers quoted by Saul we will still be vastly outnumbered." Seth stated quietly. "We will need Joaquim and the others here to help us. If Maksim can find a way in that doesn't involve fighting through they will have the shamans with them. If only we had retained the ability to de-materialise when we became earthbound." He mourned.

Eönwë squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "Well I can bring some more through with me, but it takes its toll on my corporeal form and I need to be at full strength. We will wait and see what Maksim comes up with first. In the meantime we need to head down to the Foundations of Stone and find this nursery tale place with its guardian." He smiled at Arras who blushed furiously. "Once we have done that our task is evident. We are to defend the guardian and stop Herumor from using the seal to release Melkor and whoever else is behind him."

Elrond put his hand up and Eönwë turned to him in query. "You mentioned something called the Senior Partners? And the Slayers? I have never heard of these people. Are they likely to be of any help to us?"

"I know you have not heard of them." Eönwë said gently. "But we do not have time for an in-depth explanation while the Lycans grow ever closer. I will explain who and what they are and their purpose as we travel down into the Redhorn Lodes."

"What about the people in the Waterworks?" Carver asked as the group prepared to leave the Watchpost "They are mostly engineers and technical people, won't they be at risk?"

"They have moved themselves and their equipment to a large cavern on the opposite side of the Waterworks area." Seth explained. "They found a passage through the back of the cavern which leads to a sort of hidden valley which has a clean water source. They can defend themselves from there if necessary and they will still be able to continue their work if the Lycans don't go down that way. I don't believe that they will. If Eönwë is correct about this seal and Hellmouth being in the Foundations of Stone, they will head straight down there. The two archaeologists who joined them will remain with them until we give the all clear. If Radagast is with them and they need to leave he can start transporting them if necessary."

Moments later they were moving down the flights of stairs which lead down from the Watchpost into the Redhorn Lodes.

ooOoo


	71. Irresistible force meet Immovable object

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby. Any references to the world created by Joss Whedon belong to him.**

**Author Note: **

And so... on to the final couple of chapters in this story. Denizens of the non-supernatural world are about to collide head on with inhabitants of the supernatural world and the ramifications will be felt far beyond the finale of Dark Power Arising.

**NB:** The new story in the series of Tales of the Modern Silmarillion, entitled **The Hellmouth** is now in the main Silmarillion section for ease of reading for anyone who enjoyed the first two stories and wishes to read the third. Just in case readers are reading it as a standalone, which is fine, I will put a recap from Dark Power Arising of the relevant information which takes you into The Hellmouth.

ooOoo

" Never laugh at live dragons." _**- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit **_

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 71 – Irresistible force meets immovable object**

The attractive athletic looking girl with long dark hair folded her arms and scowled furiously at her red haired companion who was calmly sorting through what to any normal person would have looked like bunches of dried herbs or weeds, four or five dried shrivelled up round shaped objects and a jar of something that might or might not have been pale green tapioca.

"You can't go anywhere alone with that guy."

Her tone was as final as she could make it, but the other girl was unimpressed.

"_Hello_..._so _not going to be alone." Her tone was cheerful with an edge of stubbornness. "Lots of other people are going be there as well."

Her companion's scowl grew deeper. "We don't know _any_ of those people, or what their agenda is, plus at least one of them is military and we all know how bad _that_ can end up. I am coming with you."

Red sighed, carefully wrapped a white ribbon around a bunch of the combined herbs and weeds and firmly placed them in a red velvet drawstring bag along with the dried objects. The other girl gave a start and pointed at the bag.

"And are they what I _think _they are?"

An impish smile split Red's heart shaped face. "Yup...testicles...finally found a use for 'em."

"_Human_ testicles?" The dark girl tried and failed to keep the disgust and dismay out of her voice.

"No...of _course_ not...I_ was_ tempted though. Far too pricey and mean old Giles was too miserly to cough up for them besides lecturing me that they were unethical." Her tone was both outraged and sad. "They're from a Fyarl demon...at least I_ think_ they are." She held one up to the light and squinted at it. "Not sure that there's all that much difference once they've been...ya know...retrieved from the sac."

"Oh my god that is disgusting...would you put that damn thing down please? And can we stick to the original subject?"

Red wrapped the testicle back in the paper bag and smiled at the other girl. She tactfully didn't bother pointing out that it was not her who had instigated the subject change. Past experience with Kennedy had taught her otherwise. "Which was?"

"Which was you not going alone with that guy out there." Kennedy stabbed a finger at the tall, dark saturnine man leaning casually against the door jamb. He was far enough away to not over hear their conversation had he been human, but they both knew that he was not human. "For god's sake...he's a vampire. You know...the things we kill? Grrrr...fangs...yellow eyes, bumpy foreheads? Kind of our raison d'etre really."

Red frowned and studied the tall lean figure who was definitely _pretending_ not to hear them, but she knew that he could because she'd seen his shoulders shaking uncontrollably when they discussed the testicles.

"Hmm...I don't think he's the usual kind of vampire." She finally offered in mollification. "I think he _might_ be the kind that Dracula came from. The ones who don't get bumpy foreheads, keep to themselves and live in big covens in Europe. I don't remember Dracula having a bumpy forehead at all when he went into game-face and his eyes were red not yellow...okay, so that was with the blood and all, but they still weren't yellow..."

"_Count _Dracula? You mean like the guy from the movies?" Distracted from her mission for the moment, Kennedyl turned and stared at the man who was now lighting up a cigarette. "How do you know? Did you meet him? _Where_ did you meet him?"

Red grinned. She unfolded her jacket and then refolded it. "Not sure whether I need the jacket..." She turned to her companion. "D'ya think I'll need the jacket? Don't wanna be too warm, but there's really nothing worse than being too cold. But hey...going down to the depths of the earth, how cold could it be?"

"Willow!" Kennedy glared at her.

"_What?_ Oh.. Dracula you mean? Yeah, me, Buffy and Xander met Dracula in the cemetery back in Sunnydale He was _sooo_ cool, like all mysterious with a long cloak and '_MUAHAHA_' then he turned into a bat. Bats in your hair is _so_ not fun I can tell you Missy."

Kennedy pursed her lips. "Willow, stop with the babbling and answer the question."

"Okay, okay." Willow glared back. "Well...he was Dracula and he came all the way to America to see Buffy the famous vampire slayer. He even bit her neck. He had her in his thrall..." Her voice throbbed low with muted excitement, then she hesitated and her frown deepened. "Well...no...that might have been Xander come to think of it. He did say afterwards about not wanting to be anybody's butt monkey any more because he was sick of being the guy who was always nearly raped by a bug monster or under some other demony creature's spell and got the funny syphilis..."

"Willow..."

Willow waved her hands in frustration. "Okay _okay_...Giles said that he was from a pure race of vampires who went way back when to the beginning of time and they were from some from some fabulous mythical creature with a_ really _unpronounceable name. They were very careful about who they sired. The vamps we know are just seriously retarded, inbred country cousins, at least that's what I _think_ they are. Vampires a la the movie Deliverance or something. I must admit to not really listening to Giles at the time. Anyway...this guy has the same kinda vibe as Dracula did."

"Well whatever vibe he is giving you, you are _not_ going anywhere alone with him, even for a few seconds. I need to go." She turned to the tall inoffensive looking man who had arrived a few minutes earlier and had been talking to the vampire and who had just joined them. "Giles...tell her...I need to go with her."

Rupert Giles shook his head. "It's Willow's call I'm afraid Kennedy, in any case you are needed back in Cleveland. I'm not even sure why you came with Willow in the first place. Diego will transport you back as soon as Willow and our friend over there are on their way." He nodded at the vampire who inclined his head in return. "In any case, I truly don't think that you need to worry. It's very clear that even if Maksim _isn't_ from the same strain as Dracula, and I know for a fact that he is, he does also have a soul, like Angel and Spike. He's one of the good guys working for the Powers That Be."

Both girls turned and stared at Maksim who gave them a courtly little bow and smiled.

"How can you tell?" Ever suspicious, Kennedy would not be swayed. "He pretty much stinks like vamp to me."

Rupert Giles smiled thinly. "Well that's the difference between us my dear. Sometimes staking first and asking questions later is not _always_ the most propitious thing to do especially when you need information that only they can give you." He turned to Willow. "Are you ready?"

Willow grinned at him. "Ready, willing and able! Yes sirree." She flipped off a mock salute.

Giles shook his head in mild exasperation and took his glasses off to clean them. "A simple 'yes Giles' would have sufficed you know. And...I am _not _mean and miserly by the way... I am simply being prudent with the Council's money. The Fyarl demon's ...er... testicles do_ exactly_ the same job for a third of the price of the human variety."

Willow noticed with glee that Giles had flushed right up at having to discuss something even remotely sexual with any of them. She turned to Kennedy in triumph and held out her hand.

"See?" She gloated and Kennedy thrust a couple of banknotes in the proffered hand with a sigh. "I told you that old age hadn't affected his hearing...but would you listen to me? _Oooh_ no..."

At this juncture, the vampire Maksim could be heard to make a noise similar to a high pitched strangled cough.

"Hey!" Giles's tone was filled with indignation. "I am still right _here..._and there is _nothing_ wrong with my hearing I'll have you know." He put his glasses back on and gave the girls his most ferocious scowl. "Now can we get on with this please? Preferably _before_ I succumb to the ravages of extreme old age?"

Moments later Willow and Maksim were standing in the middle of a pentagram etched in the parquet flooring of a large, lofty room which obviously served as a library. Giles, Kennedy and two of the Council staff watched from the sidelines as Willow brought out the red velvet bag and held her hand out to the vampire who took it with a faint smile. She tucked the bag under her arm and poured some of the green tapioca around them in a rough circle with her free hand before putting it in her pocket. She then intoned a few words in a beautiful, but slightly guttural language, crushing the contents of the bag and throwing it in the air at the same time. It flared up in a multicoloured cloud and fluttered down to the floor like glittery rain, then she took out something that looked very much like a pink cellphone and flipped it open.

When the glitter had stopped falling neither she nor Maksim were there.

One of the Council staff produced another bag and a cellphone device and nodded to Kennedy. "Ready when you are."

Moments later a very disgruntled and annoyed Kennedy had also disappeared by the same method.

The other staff member, a junior Watcher, sighed and brought out a long handled broom and dustpan. "It's all very well instantly transporting people here, there and everywhere...but who gets left to clear up the bloody mess?"

He sighed deeply and started to sweep.

ooOoo

**The Foundations of Stone, Moria Archaeological dig site, Switzerland, present day..**

"Oh my Goddess..." Willow blinked as her vision cleared. Standing in front of her was a tall, immensely beautiful being in the shape of a human male, but it was the powerful nimbus of light that surrounded him and leaked from his eyes and his form that left her virtually speechless. "You're the _real _deal..."

Eönwë smiled kindly at her and the sensation of wanting to weep with joy swept over her like a wave causing her to stumble slightly. The Herald caught her arm and gently righted her. The warmth from his strong grip spread through her and his proximity made her slightly dizzy. His dark blue eyes twinkled at her.

"Welcome to Moria Miss Rosenberg. My name is Eönwë and I am the Herald of Lord Manwe Sulimo, Lord of the Breath of Arda and the Elder King in the West. I am also known as Major General Gary Matthews of the British Army. May I firstly give you our heartfelt thanks for your willingness to help us, especially since this is not really your fight?"

"Oh...I'm happy to...well...I mean I'm not happy that it's needed." She flushed bright red. "It kinda _is_ my fight...anything that threatens the world I live in is my fight...will I actually _have _to fight? You know...with the swords and things? 'Cos... I gotta tell you, not very good with the sharp pointy things. Buffy let me use a stake a coupla times and I wasn't very good at all and swords and me are very un-mixy things. Hearts aren't easy to stake when the vamp just won't stand still and...and _hello_...no extra special speedy powers like the Slayer. I do much better with the magic...but ...oh...oh...I can float a pencil and stake stuff sometimes..."

She stopped dead when she realised that the drop dead gorgeous angel person was staring at her with a rather bemused expression on his face. She was also aware of s ripple of light musical laughter from others around them.

"I'm babbling." She said mournfully. "I promised myself I wouldn't babble. Only I can't stop babbling when I'm nervous and meeting the real PTB deal like you makes me _very_ nervous. And I'm doing it again aren't I?"

Eönwë chuckled. "A little bit, but there's really no need to be nervous, we are all friends and equals here. I wish we had more time for introductions, but time is of the essence. I must admit I was expecting more than just you...not that I think you won't be able to manage it of course." Eönwë realised with an inward chuckle that her babbling was a little infectious.

She waved a hand at him. "Oh it's okay. The coven in England are standing by. Also Diego and the Warlocks at headquarters and some shaman guys in Switzerland. They're going to boost my magic so I can cope with controlling greater numbers of people. Don't wanna send them into the next galaxy do we? Heh heh...no sirree, I just need to open a conduit to them and set up so that we can transport your people here. Did you get the instructions from Giles?"

"Indeed I did...I think we have found a suitable area." Eönwë turned to two tall figures standing just behind them. "This is Celebrimbor and Thranduil, they will assist you, the others are Kerubim warriors who will act as guards just in case we get a visitation before you've finished the transportation."

Willow goggled at the tall, dark and handsome Celebrimbor who bowed courteously with his hand over his heart, then she looked at Thranduil with his golden beauty, sculpted features and bright green eyes and almost fainted on the spot. Now here were two male specimens who could possibly convince her to stop being gay. The internal instincts that she had developed and honed over years on a Hellmouth immediately told her that neither of the two men were either human _or_ mortal. They had a similar sort of glow to Eönwë or whatever his name was, only his was much brighter. It was as if she could actually _see_ their souls shining through their skin and she could hardly bear to tear her eyes away it was so entrancing.

_Oh my god,_ she thought to herself. _Buffy is gonna be so miffed that she didn't get to come...and Faith. Letting husky, hot and sensual Faith with her 'come fuck me' eyes loose among this bunch would be like sexual carnage. This is like an all you can eat breakfast buffet, but with guys instead of food._

However, once her guides had led her to the area they had been preparing for the transportation, efficient Willow had come to the fore. She pursed her lips and examined the area closely, completely ignoring the phalanx of very other worldly warriors whose watchful, glittering eyes never strayed from their duty of keeping a lookout for intruders. The Slayers were impressive enough, but these guys, they were all consummate warriors and in a way she was sorry that Buffy and Faith _weren't _there, because they had a great deal in common with them, much more than she had. Still, they weren't here and she was and she had a job to do. She turned to Thranduil.

"This'll be fine. I just need to set up a conduit between me, the coven, the shamans in that Vevey place and the warlocks. It'll only take a coupla minutes...we do have a coupla minutes right?"

Thranduil let out a deep chuckle. "Of course we do Willow...may I call you Willow? Such a pretty name. We are not expecting the main body of Lycans to attack just yet, they are still forming up to make their way down. As far as we know, apart from a small group of us, they don't know we are even here in any kind of large numbers let alone preparing to bring in reinforcements. You just tell Celebrimbor and myself what you need and you shall have it."

A peculiar happy sounding squeal sounded from Willow which she immediately tried to turn into a cough. She blushed to the roots of her hair.

Thranduil's golden eyebrows climbed up his forehead. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh..it's nothing...nothing at all, just clearing my throat." She made a fuss of clearing her throat and coughing. "Very dry down here."

Celebrimbor laughed and Thranduil smiled kindly at her.

"I'm not very good at the whole social talking thing...especially with men." She confided as she opened the pack she had been carrying on her back and started to take the materials necessary for the transportation out. "Usually all I can do is make a few vowel sounds and then I have to go...far away."

Thranduil exchanged a look filled with laughter to Celebrimbor. This mortal child was utterly delightful and yet both Elves could sense the immense power resting beneath the bubble-headed exterior. If what Eönwë had told them was true, this lovely young girl was one of the most powerful witches on the planet and Thranduil could see the shadow in the back of her eyes which told him that she had seen much more than her fair share of loss, grief and despair. It was mortals like her that they were here fighting for. The idea of people like Willow being wiped out or enslaved was too dreadful to even contemplate.

Willow moved into the centre of the cleared area and began to sketch out a large pentagram in the earth, marking it with a white powder. She instructed Thranduil and Celebrimbor to place candles at each point of the star and a silver dish beside the candles which would hold water. The Kerubim stood at their posts, unmoving, like alabaster statues, but she saw their obsidian eyes flicker to the pentagram and knew that they could already feel the pull of the powerful earth magic.

Once the pentagram was drawn to her satisfaction and she had added some of the pale green tapioca stuff to the outside circle of the pentagram, she, Celebrimbor and Thranduil lit the candles and poured water from a silver stoppered flask into each dish, they then stepped out of the circle leaving Willow in the centre. She opened up the pink cellphone-like device and set it down on the ground, bowed to all four Watchtowers and invoked the protection of the Goddess and the spirits of Earth, Water, Fire and Wind, then she sat down cross legged and closed her eyes. The two Elves watched in fascination as her body levitated slightly and a soft blue haze surrounded her. Eönwë and Seth joined them and also watched as Willow's hair slowly began to turn pure white. It floated around her head in an eldritch cloud. The Kerubim instantly all turned as one and made obeisance to the presence of the Goddess of the earth within her, then turned back to their original positions watching for any enemies. She remained still, eyes closed, floating about eight inches above the dusty ground and completely oblivious to the compliments paid to her by the Kerubim.

"She is powerful." Seth broke the awed silence. "Such power in one so young."

Eönwë nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed... Rupert Giles did say as much. She is destined for much more than she is at the moment. She has not yet come into her full destiny and will not for some time yet." He stopped and peered at the pentagram. "And I believe we have the first of our troops gentlemen."

As he spoke the air within the pentagram shimmered with a myriad of sparkling lights and they could see the shapes of people forming within them. The first person to stride from the Pentagram was unmistakably Sariel with his long white blond hair braided in a neat queue down his back. He was armed with both sword and gun, as were Joaquim, Samiel, Penemue and the contingent from England who had been residing at Vevey, consisting of Elladan, Maglor and Draugluin who was dragging a very confused and not a little scared looking Jeff behind him.

Draugluin joined Eönwë and the others and jerked a thumb at the motionless form of the young woman floating in the middle of the pentagram. "Earth magicks?"

Eönwë nodded. "Yes, she is a practitioner of pure earth magicks, what the layman would call a white witch."

Draugluin observed her closely. "Yet the darkness is there also, deep within her. She controls it well. Will she remain with us during the fight? She could be quite an asset."

"It had not been my intention for her to remain, this is not really her fight, but I deem that we will not have time to send her back before they are upon us, so the answer is yes, she will remain with us now. She will have the Kerubim with her now as protection. The dark wide tunnel you see behind us leads to the Hellmouth and its guardian. Our lookouts say that the Lycans are moving down through Moria across the Broad Way and will come down through the Watchpost and thence into Redhorn. We have, at most, a hour and there are still more of our people to come through which does not give us much time to place them. Orgrim has led his people and the archaeological team the other way to the western gates of Moria, then he and the escort will come back and bring up the rear once Herumor and his Lycans have shown their hand. they will take care of whatever rear party the Lycans leave behind. We do not know, as yet, how Herumor will make his entrance, but I suspect it will not be at the end of a route march through Moria. I think he will come once all are in position and the battle has commenced."

ooOoo

**The Watchpost, Mines of Moria, present day...**

The tall Kerubim remained as still as a statue in his hiding place high above the Watchpost itself as the area filled with the long lupine shapes of the Lycans. Unlike the Orcs of latter days, they did not fight among themselves and there was a hierarchy among their ranks. The Kerubim were as long sighted as the Elves and the Maiar and he could see that they were using the large area at the beginning of the Redhorn Lodes to form up. He watched impassively as a seemingly never-ending stream of them passed beneath him. He knew that they would probably leave a rear party in situ at the Watchpost and it was this rear party that Orgrim, his Naugrim warriors and the Kerubim who had escorted the civilians up to the surface at the other end of the mines would help to clean up. For him once he had silently conveyed the intelligence about numbers and directions to Seth, it would be a case of patience until the Naugrim and the other Kerubim arrived, then he would join them.

He was just about to close his connection with Seth when a flurry of movement at the other end of the Watchpost where it joined with the main buildings and the staircase to the Flaming Deeps caught his attention.

"What is it?"

He heard Seth's slightly concerned voice in his earpiece.

"I am unsure, there seems to be a bit of a commotion. Something very large coming up from the direction of the Flaming Deeps...wait a second...make that at least _three_ perhaps more, very large somethings...dear lord in heaven above..."

"What _is_ it?"

Seth's tone was now peremptory and laced with worry, but for a moment the Kerubim was too astonished to answer. Finally he found his voice.

"You're not going to believe this..." His voice dropped low. "But here be dragons! Dear Lord...they have _dragons _Seth."

ooOoo


	72. They also serve

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby. Any references to the world created by Joss Whedon belong to him.**

**Author Note: **

For those who are reading The Hellmouth at the same time as these final chapters for Dark Power, I do understand the confusion over the chronology between the two stories, but there is a reason why Buffy has never heard of an Elf and Willow seems to not know what Celeborn is. As this chapter unfolds, you will see the reason for Buffy's lack of knowledge and Willow's _apparent_ lack of knowledge of Elves.

At the time of the end of Dark Power and the beginning of The Hellmouth, Buffy and Willow are not actually located in the same place, nor do they work together although they both work for the same organisation – The International Watchers and Slayers Council.

Buffy is in charge of the Scottish Slayer group and Willow is a roving member of the IWSC. She travels the world locating new Potential Slayers as they pop up on the radar. The information is then passed onto retrieval teams who go in to convince the families that their daughters are not crazy, but that they are now specially gifted children and therefore need special training.

At the time of Chapter 71 of Dark Power, Buffy and Willow haven't seen each other for a very long time given that their roles take them in different directions and Willow is only in Scotland for a matter of a couple of hours before she teleports with Maksim to Moria so the pair do not meet up. Buffy only finds out afterwards that Willow was there at all and Giles is vague about why she was there when Buffy asks him.

When reading the chapter, bear in mind that although Willow is a very powerful Wiccan and the Powers That Be have allowed her to assist Eönwë and his group in getting their people teleported inside Moria, they don't actually at this stage want the two groups to work with each other. Only the vampires, demons, selected humans from the Watcher's Council, Eönwë, the Grigori and the Valar are actually aware that the Slayers even exist. The general population have no idea that they exist. Obviously as the chapter goes on Elrond, Thranduil and the others on their team, including the few humans, will be made aware of them by Eönwë, but it will not be put out there as public knowledge.

Willow has to stay for the finale and the reason for that will also become obvious, but the Powers That Be have a few tricks up their sleeve to prevent her rushing back to the Watcher's Council babbling about Angels, Elves and the like. Her memories of the period will be re-built. The only person from her side who will actually retain the memory of her being there at all is Giles.

Kennedy (who is a Slayer and Willow's love interest) _doesn't_ know who the group is who need Willow's assistance and the reason she wasn't allowed to go along with her is obvious. As far as the Council warlocks who are also involved are concerned, it is simply that they are helping Giles do a favour for some people that he knows. They don't the know the details. The less people who know, the easier it is to keep a lid on a situation. At this point in time, the aim of the game is to defend the guardian of the Hellmouth in Moria because it is the most important one and keep the Hellmouth inactive. It is absolutely crucial that the Guardian survives and the Hellmouth remains closed, otherwise there will be Armageddon. Neither the Sunnydale nor Cleveland Hellmouths had guardians simply because they were minor Hellmouths compared to Moria which is the 'biggie'. All they had was the Slayer to protect the surrounding population from the evil that is attracted to a Hellmouth.

Moria on the other hand never needed a Slayer because of its remote location, instead the PTB put a guardian in place. They knew, despite the fact that the Dwarves had returned, that nobody would travel down that far. The memories of the Balrog and horror awakened by Durin were still far too powerful in the collective memories and history of the Naugrim. Also Moria was buried under thousands of tons of mountain and it was not known about generally until the workmen in the Great St Bernard tunnel accidentally opened it up.

Unfortunately the PTB _hadn't_ allowed for Herumor and Melkor finding out that Moria was a Hellmouth and of course, for that we can put the blame squarely on the shoulders of the Senior Partners who actually _did_ know it was there. If they hadn't sent their shock troops down to deal with the orc cloning operation it would have remained hidden. That very action was what gave Melkor and subsequently his minion Herumor the knowledge that there _was_ a Hellmouth there and was what upped the ante on their escape plan for Melkor.

There is a very fine line between the Slayer's remit and that of Eönwë, but it _is _there. One deals with the supernatural and the monsters which exist in the hell dimensions and also on earth and is the Warrior or Champion of the People, the other deals with ancient issues left behind when the Valar left earth to God and good neighbours and is Eru's Ainur representative in modern Middle-earth. Unfortunately some of the areas of expertise do overlap with each other, but the PTB wish them to remain as separate as possible, as they have been down through the millennia. Although Buffy has already been in a battle with the First Evil (who is also Melkor), she did not have the power to defeat that evil completely or destroy it. All she, Willow, the Potentials and the Scoobies did was temporarily vanquish it.

Only the Ainur have the power to destroy Melkor, which is why Eönwë has been tasked and not the Slayer who barely contained him five years earlier during the Sunnydale disaster and not without considerable loss of life. The Slayer may have extraordinary powers given to her when the first slayer was imbued with essence of demon in the beginning of time, but Eönwë's power is pure and straight from heaven. He has no dark side, whereas the Slayers do.

Of course they were bound to clash at some stage and this is where the third story in the series, The Hellmouth, begins. By the time the three newcomers from Valinor land in Middle-earth in Scotland three years have passed since the battle in the Mines of Moria and Willow does not remember being in Moria or dealing with Elves or Grigori.

_Will_ she remember them before it gets explained to her? Well you will just have to read The Hellmouth and see won't you?

ooOoo

"When I consider how my light is spent

Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,

And that one Talent which is death to hide

Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account,

lest He returning chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"

I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need

Either man's work or his own gifts.

Who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best.

His state Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed,

And post o'er land and ocean without rest;

They also serve who only stand and wait."

**- John Milton**

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 72 – They also serve...**

It was quiet in the household of Gary and Kim Matthews in deepest, darkest Hampshire, much quieter than usual. No Erestor quietly moving around the kitchen, no Haldir crafting arrows at the table, no Maedhros lifting Allie up onto his shoulders and playing horsie, no Maksim with his mysterious presence. They had all gone leaving only Kim, Jan Hall, Celebrian, Nerdanel and Allie along with the silent, grave sentinels who had arrived on the day that Eönwë and the others had left for Switzerland.

Allie was still asleep in bed. Kim had no fears of anyone sneaking in to kidnap her because the four Maiar warriors did not sleep. They remained vigilant, as stern guardians and their orders from Lord Manwe had been clear... the first sign of it going badly for Eönwë and the others and they were to bring the remaining members of the household including the Bob and Rasputin the cat to Valinor where they would then remain until the dust had settled.

And this, of course, was the reason for Kim's sleeplessness...that tiny little doubt posed by that one action of the Elder King...a doubt that niggled at her and encouraged the fear that perhaps her husband might _not _come back.

Or worse, that he would return changed. Despite the lessening of his majesty and power as a Vala down through the millennia and his imprisonment in the Void, Melkor was still powerful and if Eönwë's corporeal form was hurt or destroyed, his spirit...the fea...would still be out there and vulnerable.

No, she couldn't sleep, not while the man she loved and the only world she knew was in danger.

Both of the animals were in the kitchen and their presence brought her some comfort. Rasputin sat in the middle of the large table in the inglenook where the human members of the household usually ate breakfast. Normally he would be out on the hunt, but not this night. This night he had remained in the house and Nerdanel had put a litter tray down for him. Bob the dog was a little more problematic when it came to the calls of nature. He too did not venture further than the high walled back yard directly outside the kitchen door where they usually hung the washing. He saw to his needs there and they had been cleaning and swilling the area under the watchful eye of one of the Maiar.

Apart from that they had few needs. The larder was full, as was the freezer and if they needed anything Kim would order it on-line. Allie's nursery was knocked on the head for the time being until the crisis was over. She would either return to the small nursery school she attended or she would continue her education in Valinor.

The jury was still out on which it would be.

"You are very worried about Eönwë." Kim nearly jumped out of her skin when one of the Maiar suddenly materialised beside her. She turned to look up at him and got another shock when she realised that he had very similar features to her husband.

The Maiar smiled and bowed slightly. "We do look alike I suppose, Eönwë and I. I did not meet you when you visited Valinor, I was spending time in Lady Nienna's halls. My name is Fionwe and I suppose you could say that Eönwë and I are brothers.

"Then I guess that Allie is your niece." Kim managed a rather wan smile. "Ilmare did mention that there were more of you in the family, so to speak, but she didn't mention names. " She hesitated, wanting to ask him about the nature of the Maiar...wanting to ask him if Maiar could, in fact, actually die, but she couldn't find the right words.

Luckily Fionwe had already surmised what was really bothering her. He placed a comforting arm around her shoulder and felt her shudder and bury her face against him. The tears tracked down her face and he said nothing, merely gently wiped them with a long, slender forefinger. Finally the tears stopped and he deemed it the right time to speak.

"I know what it is that you fear." He said softly. "And I will not say things to make you feel better, even though this is what your heart desires. You want me to say that his fëa...his soul as you call it, is not in danger from Melkor. I cannot do that. Melkor still retains considerable power although it is bound by the dimension he was incarcerated in. That as you know was an error made by the Valar and they freely admit that they erred. He should not have been sent to gather more power from the evils around him in the Void. Like his lieutenant, Sauron, he should have been sent to Eru for judgement and sentencing. But in all things there is purpose, even such mistakes that seem to heap more evils onto the world. We can only guess at Eru's design when he allowed his servants, the Valar, to make their fateful decision. Be that all as it may, the answer to your fears is not a comforting one. If Melkor is triumphant and the Seal of Kal is removed, his spirit will be free and we can only assume that his minion will have the ability to imbue him with a corporeal form. In those few moments, unless Eönwë's spirit and the spirits of all those who fought against Melkor do not fly, immediately, then they stand in danger of being captured. Melkor has long wished for his brother's beloved Herald to be in his hands, it would send a clear message to Lord Manwe that he, Melkor, was finally Overlord of all Arda. He tried once before with your daughter and failed, mainly because of one who knew him better than anyone else and who stood between your child and her fate..."

"Who?" Kim drew away from Fionwe's embrace. "I'd really like to know who did that so that I can thank him. Eönwë didn't tell me."

Fionwe's smile was gentle but the expression in his eyes was firm, yet kindly. "It is not my place to give such information. Perhaps later, when everything is settled, you will be told. Suffice to say that the person who saved her and the mortal woman with her has his own redemption to seek and this was part of it. To speak of it now, may well put him in danger should Melkor succeed."

Kim's face fell. "I suppose you're right. But you said that if Eönwë's spirit flew he would be okay? I mean _he_ creates his fleshly form doesn't he?"

"Yes." Fionwe nodded in assent. "We Maiar create our own fana in accordance with our likes and needs. So even if his physical form was damaged beyond repair, if Eönwë flies immediately his fëa will go straight to Mandos as will the others and he will be able to form a new physical body..." His voice trailed off leaving a huge question mark in its place.

"You have 'But face'..." Kim said quietly and when Fionwe looked at her quizzically she clarified her statement. "The statement that begins with an if, usually ends up with a but. If he doesn't fly...why would he not fly back to Mandos?"

Fionwe shook his head. "I am not sure, but I know my brother, as I am sure you do, and he feels great responsibility and compassion to all who lie under his command and care. He knows you and the little one will be safe, because the Eru and the Valar have willed it so. He might...and I do say might...remain longer to ensure that the fëar of all the people under his care are safe. In those minutes or even seconds perhaps, his own fëa lies in great danger, especially since Melkor will be expecting him to do just that."

Kim looked horrified and the tears welled up once more. "Can't we warn him? Can't Lord Manwe warn him not to do that?"

Fionwe regarded her calmly for a moment. "And even if he did, child, what do you think Eönwë would do with such a warning?"

For a moment all was silent in the darkened kitchen, lit only by the concealed lighting under the cupboards, then Kim's small voice interrupted the silence.

"He would ignore it." She said miserably. "He would make sure everyone else was okay and then he would try to go home, but it would be too late." A huge sob erupted from her chest. "I am going to lose him aren't I? If they lose I mean."

Fionwe gently caught her in his arms and stroked her hair to soothe her. "Hush child, all is not lost. The battle is yet to be fought and if there is one thing I know about my brother it's that he is the most obstinate, mule-minded person I know...he is also the bravest, the best warrior I know. I do not believe he will not prevail."

Far away to the west in Valinor Tulkas turned to his fellow Valar.

"Let us hope he is right. And this time, when we get that brother of yours Manwe, I am going to take him to the Timeless Halls myself and make sure that he is buried in the deepest, darkest imprisonment circle they can find, preferably encased in cement or something very much stronger. No offence meant to you of course."

Manwe shook his head, his sadness that it had come to this written all over his face. "None taken Tulkas...none taken, but somehow I think this will be taken out of our hands this time. What is it mortals say? Fool me once shame on you...fool me twice shame on me."

ooOoo

**A Manor House just outside the town of Loch Mairie, in the Highlands of Scotland**

Dr Rupert Giles stood at one of the many mullioned windows of the manor house and gazed out at the windswept darkness outside. A gust of wind rattled the windows and sent a pattering of rain against the glass. Behind him, in the large fireplace, a log fire crackled and danced merrily in the grate. It was Buffy's constant grouch that this 'stupid place has no central heating' that led the Council into having it installed, but it was a case of not enough really since they didn't put double glazing in and the old Jacobean building was full of drafts and chinks through which the wind could whistle and the bitter cold could invade. The poor boiler waged a constant uphill struggle pushing out heat that was quickly leached out of the roof despite the thick carpet of insulation that had been laid down in the long roof space above the attics.

He sighed and then laughed softly. Buffy was a girl of creature comforts. She was bearing up well here in the back end of beyond, as she called it, much better than he thought she would. She might not admit it, but after the sojourn in Rome and the subsequent romance with the very dissolute Immortal, she was ready for normality and it didn't get any more normal than this.

He walked over to the large comfortable leather armchair in front of the fire, eschewing the research that blinked and sent its siren call out to him from the workstation where he had plugged his laptop in. There was some new portents on the horizon and the Watchers from all over the globe were sending in their reports for him to collate and produce a final report on. So far the portents were hazy and seemed to be directed at the future rather than the now, so he dismissed the thought that Eönwë's troubles in Moria might be the problem, there was nothing supernatural about Melkor, but of course that might not be the case for anything that came through _with_ him.

He shoved the uncomfortable thought that if _anything_ came through it was probably already too late for mankind to the back of his mind. He _had _to believe that good would ultimately prevail otherwise what on earth was the point in it all? He was instantly reminded of the time Cordelia had used Anyanka, the vengeance demon to alter their reality. What had the Buffy from that reality said when he had commented that he _had t_o believe in a better world?

"_Go right ahead. I have to live in this one." _She had stated flatly.

But what if Eönwë did not prevail? What then?

Surely he could not just stand by while mankind's future hung in the balance? For one crazy moment he actually considered sending in a contingent of Slayers. He even put a hand out to pick up his mobile, but instead of doing it his hand hovered uncertainly over it. This was not Council or Slayer business. True they had fought the First Evil, but that was _before_ he had known that it was Melkor using that avatar. If he had known, then he would also have known what they were up against in Sunnydale. Instead Melkor had covered his tracks very well indeed. Melkor was not a foe that the Slayers were equipped to handle, only sheer luck and the mistakes made by Caleb as the First's right hand man had led to triumph for them.

And at what price? The destruction of a whole town...the deaths of people who were like family to them and the many deaths of innocent young girls caught up in something they neither knew about nor understood. The price had been far too high. Had he known then what he knew now, he would have at least _tried _to petition the Powers That Be to send someone like Eönwë, and now they had. Melkor was his business and the business of the Valar, _not _of the Slayers or their Watchers.

Yet that horrible niggling little voice of doubt still jabbed at him suggesting to him that while it might not be the Slayers' business, it might be _his _business. But what on earth could _he _do that Eönwë, Radagast and the others couldn't? He'd learnt to fight, after a fashion, but was no warrior. He was a scholar, an academic and researcher. What was he supposed to do? Poke Melkor in the eye with a pen? Or perhaps he could bore him into submission by reading the Watcher diaries from down through the centuries to him, they certainly managed to send _him_ to sleep.

He could almost hear Melkor's honeyed tones in his ear telling him that he was thinking like a lowly mortal, but then that's exactly what he was these days...a mortal human with no powers. He gazed down at his hands and the plain gold signet ring on the second finger of his left hand. Instantly he was taken back to another plain gold ring that had sat so prettily on his heavily mailed hand many millennia ago and a shudder of revulsion shook him from head to foot.

And in that moment he knew _exactly _what he was supposed to do.

If he had not been so wrapped up in his own thoughts and concerns he might have noticed the faint and almost ghostly presence of Raguel watching him from the shadows. This was the final test...one more task and the redemption of Annatar would be complete. All he had to do was make a decision. One simple decision. He had all of the information and possibly more at his disposal. The Ainur from the Timeless halls would have held his breath had he been in mortal form and been breathing.

After a few moment's hesitation and with a determined expression on his face, Giles picked up the phone and hit one speed dial button. He waited impatiently, tapping one ringed finger on the side of the chair arm. Eventually there was an answer.

"Diego? Is the teleport still open to Moria? Good...no, everything is fine. I just need to transport someone else across...yes...just one more. Yes I realise that they may arrive in the thick of things. Excellent. Yes...the library, meet me here."

He strode over to the weapons cabinet that hung on one of the walls and selected a sword which had originally belonged to a Slayer from the fifteenth century. He swung it experimentally and liked the feel of it. It felt right somehow. He then opened the gun cabinet which was rarely, if ever used by the Slayers and took out a Hechler and Koch pistol. The box of rounds for the weapon and a couple of magazines were shoved into the pocket of his tweed jacket and a slender stiletto knife down his sock. These were all weapons he was familiar with. Then he sat down to wait.

Amusement and relief warred inside Raguel who immediately sped off back to the Timeless Halls to report the success of his mission. The stage was set and all the players were almost in place.

_Almost_ all...

ooOoo

**Earlier that evening at the manor house...**

Buffy would have been the first to admit that the conversation with Giles could have gone better. She had buttonholed him at the dinner table about Willow being in Scotland and his answers had been firm, but when she thought back they had also been a little evasive.

"I don't understand why she didn't stay to say hello. I don't get to see enough of her as it is..." She mumbled through a mouthful of roll.

Giles neatly sliced his roll in half and buttered one of the halves.

"There wasn't really enough time Buffy." He said, hoping that his slight vagueness would put her off the interrogation. "I'm quite sure if there had been she would have been delighted to stay, at least overnight."

Buffy nodded and occupied herself with cutting a huge piece of steak which she speared into her mouth. Giles was grateful that, for the moment, she was too occupied in chewing to ask another question. His relief was short-lived however.

"So what's the what Giles? She must have been here for _some_ reason. Diego mentioned something about warlocks...so...anything _I_ should know about?"

Her sharp hazel eyes skewered him, or maybe it just_ felt _like they did because he was hiding something from her. In all the years as Sauron surely_ some_ of the ability to scheme and doubletalk had rubbed off on him? Instead he felt as though every single thought he had ever had was there, written across his face for all to see...so much for the scheming and doubletalk then.

He shifted uncomfortably in the chair, in fact it was more like a squirm than a shift and tried to school his expression into something approaching cool, calm and collected. What was it about this girl that could pierce his armour so effectively? He sighed and prepared to tell her a huge lie.

"It's nothing Buffy. Some Warlock acquaintances of mine that I owe a favour to called it in. They needed some of their people transported somewhere else in a hurry. I knew that Willow had touched down on the Cleveland House so I called and asked if she could assist. It's as simple as that." He hoped the note of finality in his voice would end the third degree.

Buffy stared at him for a moment and he managed to meet her gaze with equanimity, then she shrugged.

"Okay...but the next time don't let her get away so quickly. We have some _major_ catching up to do."

Despite almost collapsing with relief that he wouldn't have to go any deeper into an feasible explanation, he managed a tremulous smile. "Well, the Council Board Meeting is coming up and Dawn has persuaded me to hold it in London... the West End in fact. A hotel of some description."

He got no further. She squealed in delight, jumped up from her chair and hurled herself at him. He staggered back with an armful of Slayer, while she practically cracked his ribs with her hug.

"Buffy..." He gasped. "Oxygen...becoming...a huge issue here."

She immediately released him and straightened his tie. "Oh I am_ sooo _sorry Giles... but... _London_... shops... _shoes. Shoe shops! _Restaurants, clubs. Thankyouthankyouthankyou!"

After Giles had managed to extricate himself and she had gone dancing off happily to presumably plan a monster sized shopping trip which he hoped he wouldn't have to attend, he headed to the library. He felt more than a little guilty that he had evaded telling her the truth about a potentially world threatening event. Of course if it went badly he would probably have to come up with _some _explanation for lying to her, but by then none of them would be worrying about anything much anyway. He less than most. He could only imagine what Melkor would do to him if he caught him. Burning in hell or eternal damnation would probably be like a holiday in the Bahamas compared to his punishment as a traitor.

He only hoped now that the Powers That Be would keep their word and ensure that Willow's memories of her time in Moria would be re-written. Eönwë had promised him it would happen and he really had no reason to believe that the Herald of Manwe would not keep that promise. If they failed then it wouldn't matter.

"You'd _better_ come up trumps Eönwë ..." He growled to himself. "My arse is on the bloody line here!"

ooOoo


	73. The Deep Breath before the Storm

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby. Any references to the world created by Joss Whedon belong to him.**

**Author Note: **We are now into the penultimate chapter of Dark Power Arising. The last chapter depicting the battle for the Moria Hellmouth is the hardest one to write. Once I pin it down properly, there will be an Epilogue and then The Hellmouth story will be the current one.

In this chapter...an old friend of Eönwë 's and Chief Knowles from A Singular Honour makes an appearance.

ooOoo

" In a battle all you need to make you fight is a little hot blood and the knowledge that it's more dangerous to lose than to win. " 

- **George Bernard Shaw**

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 73 – The Deep Breath before the Storm**

"I do not know how you can remain so calm." Manwe turned from the window from which he watched the unsettling events unfold in the East. "We have _no_ idea what they are going into and if, as you say, this is Hellmouth business, then I find myself wondering what that is to do with Eönwë and those of the Eldar who followed him to Middle-earth? Is it not the business of the Slayer and her people?"

Raguel appeared untroubled; a lot more untroubled than Manwe was and it was that calmness about the Ainu from the Timeless Halls that made the Elder King even more nervous.

"Your Herald, Eönwë, is Eru Iluvatar's representative of the Timeless Halls on earth and therefore everything to do with that place _is_ his business." Raguel countered mildly. "The Hellmouths are the Slayer's area of responsibility, it is true, but they did not know that the European Hellmouth was buried under an ancient city of the Dwarves dating from the time that you and your brethren were guardians of Middle-earth. Herumor is a creature from that time...Melkor is also from that time. Anything to do with either of them is your Herald's responsibility. He carries the weight of the task that you failed to carry out and as hard as it may be to reconcile and accept, all _you_ can do is stand, watch and wait...and hope." He smiled at Manwe who had dropped his head at the gentle admonishment from Raguel. "For there _is_ hope Manwe. Your Herald will find assistance and help in places and from people unlooked for. He gathers them to him with his light...a light that shines directly through him from Eru."

"I hope you are right Raguel." Manwe's tone was tinged with bitterness and fear for the Maia who he thought of as a son. "Our hand are somewhat tied in this battle. We cannot even send the eagles or Earendil in this time to fight the dragons."

"Can we do nothing at all to aid them?" Varda spoke up hesitantly.

Raguel shook his head. "Not this time Lady...your husband is correct in his assumption that the time for any assistance within the power of the Valar is long gone. Unfortunately too many hasty decisions made by you and your fellow Valar have led us up to this point. The task of controlling Melkor was given to you by the One and advice was given by both Tulkas and Ulmo which was not heeded. Then when your valiant Herald had overcome Morgoth's forces in the War of Wrath and brought him home bowed and in chains, again your decision was ill-advised, the One hoped against hope that you would ask for his counsel on this matter but you did not and instead Melkor was thrust through the Doors of Night into the Void. And still you did not heed the concerns voiced by your brethren."

"He was...is...my brother." Manwe ground out between clenched teeth. His frustration and chagrin were evident, as was the agony of what he felt was his personal failures all being paraded in front of him.

"Yes, and for that reason and that reason only did Lord Eru not intervene and reverse your decision."

Manwe sat down and pursed his lips. "Perhaps it would have been better if he had...but Atto knows _everything_, even _before _it happens, why did he not counsel me against it...why did he not step in and speak his piece without me having to petition for his intervention? Perhaps all this misery, death and despair could have been avoided."

Even as he spoke the words he knew that they were both unreasonable and irrational. He and his fellow Valar had been given clear instructions by Eru when they chose to take up the stewardship of Arda after it had been created through the Music. They had been given carte blanche and Eru trusted them to do their best. They were supposed to be the wisest of the wise and instead they had stumbled around the beauty of the place in childish delight...until Melkor had darkened that delight with the shadow of discontent and evil thoughts and deeds. Then, unaccustomed as they were to _actual_ evil, they then made a series of ill-thought out decisions. They saw the beauty of the Firstborn and the thought that Melkor would destroy and distort that beauty was unbearable for them. They decided that these beautiful innocent creatures needed to be protected, hence the decision to bring them over the sea to the protection of Aman. This was their first bad decision made from a completely emotional standpoint.

Unfortunately that particular decision was what ultimately caused the Noldor to rebel against their supposed thralldom under the yoke of the Valar. It was this deceit that Melkor whispered into Feanor's ear... the fact that Arda Marred had been originally intended as a home for the Elves and instead they were nothing but slaves in Aman while the Secondborn usurped their rightful position in Arda.

When deceit has its roots in fact, however vague, it becomes harder to push away. Arda had, in fact, been intended for both the Elves _and _the race of Men, and of course the Dwarves created by Aule once the first two races were established. The Valar had uprooted the Elves and brought them over for their own protection not knowing that the Secondborn were about to make their entrance. So Melkor's whispers _did _have some basis in the truth, he just left certain parts out and the Valar in their desire to protect set themselves and everyone else on a path that would have disastrous and long-reaching consequences for all.

Now here they were, trying to pick up the pieces again and paper over the cracks and they were once again looking to Eönwë to put it right. Manwe's shame and sense of failure were overwhelming. If only Atto had said something to warn them...if only.

"And do you not have free will child?"

Manwe's mouth dropped open as he received a verbal answer to his random, distressed thoughts. The voice issued through Raguel, but it was not his voice. It was deeper; laced with compassion and reverberated with power. Both Valar fell to their knees in supplication.

"Atto..." Manwe mumbled but was silenced by the pressure of a gentle hand on his head.

"Peace my children. As you can see I have taken the liberty of using Raguel's fleshly form to speak to you both face to face. He is still here and can still see and hear us, but is unclad of flesh."

He lifted both Manwe and Varda to their feet and led them to a marble seat cushioned in blue and silver velvet. He then sat down in the other chair beside them. Finally they both met his eyes and to their relief there was a deep twinkle in their deep blue, almost unfathomable, depths.

"You must have faith Pitya." He said to Manwe gently. "Have faith in your Herald, as I do."

"We made so many mistakes Atto." Manwe said miserably.

"And what of it? _All _children make mistakes, the difference being whether you learn from those mistakes and although it has taken a long time, I believe that you have _all_ learned and grown in greatness. If you have erred in anything at all it is in letting your fear of great evil encourage you to avoid and not confront that evil. I told you at the end of the War of Wrath that I did not wish you to wholly desert the Secondborn in their struggles but instead you distanced yourselves. After you realised your mistake, you tried to shoulder the burden and even helped, even though your actions have sometimes had unintended consequences." He winked at Varda who had the grace to blush a deep rose colour as she remembered hers and Vaire's actions with regard to a certain British Police Officer. "In recent times you have ensured that Eönwë was not alone in his endeavours in modern Arda Marred and _you_ chose those who would help him without my guidance. Every single one of them is an excellent choice. He gathers his army to him including those of my children who previously fallen from grace and I have faith that they will all prevail. As for the Champion of the People...this current attempt to breach the Hellmouth in Moria is not the Slayer's task, she and her army of Slayers have enough to do dealing with the evil that is attracted to the Hellmouths. Afterwards it may become her task, but only after Eönwë has driven off Herumor and his Lycans. Now _those _creatures and the vampires were certainly not of my making, they are travesties of two beautiful original creations...that of wolf and man. They were never meant to be combined."

Manwe's silver brows drew together in a slight frown. "Yet the Slayer fought Melkor before and was triumphant."

"She cannot do anything _other _than vanquish him Manwe." Raguel said gently. "And even that was done at great cost to her life and the lives of others, some of them utter innocents whose souls now rest in the Halls of Waiting before passing beyond the Circles of the Earth. No...Eönwë was _made _for this task, it is his to complete, and all we can all do is wait...and hope."

It took the King and Queen of the Valar a moment to realise that Eru was no longer speaking through Raguel and they weren't sure at all whether they had been praised or admonished or perhaps even a little of both.

And the time of waiting and hoping was now upon them.

ooOoo

**A few months earlier...**

The first thing that Nate Roscoe said when he realised what had happened to him, and after his hands had rapidly transformed themselves into long fingered hair covered claws with wickedly curved and sharp black fingernails was...

"Well gosh..._this _sucks balls..."

Normally Nate was a man of very few words, but his comrades in the Special Air Services at Credenhill in Herefordshire were used to getting no more than monosyllables out of him. It didn't matter because what he lacked in articulation he _more_ than made up for with actions. So, even as the disciplined military part of his brain started to click into action, the drug that he had been given to effect the changes in him to a Lycan, also numbed his body into submission. He simply couldn't make _anything_ move the way he wanted it to.

The pain from the metamorphosis spiralled through his system just as it was doing the same with the three other men in the room. However the difference between him and them was the mental and physical disciplines instilled in Nate as an SAS trooper. Unfortunately those same disciplines and the considerable mental strength that came with them did not mean that his transformation was a comfortable one. What it meant was that the fighter in him came to the fore and the pain from muscles stretching and tearing, bones cracking and reforming was hideously painful but he endured it _all _with his human psyche completely intact inside him. The other men had already turned into mindless killing machines by the time _their_ transformations were under way and, in Nate's opinion, weren't all that much less mindless in their human form anyway!

Despite his stoic demeanour and lack of apparent emotion, Nate was not a stupid man. He was a consummate survivor and once he realised that he was in a far more efficient fighting form as a wolf than he ever could have been as a human being, all his senses kicked in, including those which _should_ have been subsumed under the stronger animal psyche.

Although the Lycan commanders and the scientists in charge of his development did not realise it, he was probably their most deadly warrior...he combined both the strength, speed and killing efficiency of the wolf with the disciplined mind and knowledge of a special forces soldier.

The problem...for them...was that they didn't see or realise it, a mistake which was to cost them dearly.

Once Nate realised that the scientists and doctors in the service of Lord Herumor were completely ignorant of the nature of his special status and were just treating him like any of the mindless Lycan grunts they had spawned in their laboratories and 'nurseries' as some scientist wag nicknamed them, he knew he had the upper hand and a somewhat unique view of the events that were unfolding. He decided to play their game, since going back and throwing himself onto the mercies of the Ministry of Defence would probably mean him ending up as a lab rat. No cages or bars or experiments for him. Yet at the same time he could not bring himself to even consider what mankind's fate would be if Herumor or this big boss of his were to be in charge. Nate liked the world the way it was and he couldn't see it staying the same.

He decided to bide his time and see what transpired and if the opportunity presented itself and he was given the chance to fight for the only life he knew and wanted he would grab it with both hands.

The opportunity was fated to present itself a lot speedier than he thought it would. On the fateful night that Herumor ordered his armies into Moria, Nate was one of those left at the dig site entrance to guard it against any attempt by anyone to enter with any kind of force.

ooOoo

**04:00 hours Zulu... just outside the Great St Bernard Pass tunnel...**

"You should be in wolf form." One of his fellow guards metamorphosed beside Nate as he lit a cigarette and took a long draw. "You know the penalties for disobedience. I hear that Herumor has got himself a few nice fur rugs from people who didn't do as they were told."

Nate's lip curled in disgust, but he hurriedly looked away. Why wasn't he surprised at the horrors that Skeletor, as he had come to name Herumor although not in anyone else's hearing, would flay the hide off a Lycan for disobedience? He took another draw of the cigarette and pursed his lips as he blew a thin stream of smoke from his nostrils which formed into a perfect ring.

"Ah yes.." He quipped with an air of whimsy. "But can a wolf blow a smoke ring?"

The other man's head whipped around as he scanned the surrounding area before turning his attention back to Nate. "Oh ha ha, yeah, funny guy. Just hurry the fuck up would you? Herumor has spies everywhere and I don't feel much like decorating the space in front of his fireplace."

He stomped away but halfway across to his own position he metamorphosed back into his Lycan form. Nate sighed, threw the cigarette butt on the ground and ground it into the road with his heel. "Time to go game face I suppose."

He took off towards his allotted position at a dead run and leapt into the air metamorphosing as he did so leaving his companions to wonder, with more than a little awe, how in hell's name he did that.

Nate slunk down behind a rock about five hundred metres down the road that led from the pass to the valley and settled in to wait. Herumor and his commanders seemed fairly sure that nobody was going to send an army of any sort up the pass, especially not a mainstream human army. They had seemed confident at the briefing, but Nate had been a young Trooper in the Iranian Embassy siege in London, he had also been in Operation Barras in Sierra Leone when the SAS were sent in to rescue members of the Royal Irish Regiment. He had been involved in operations in Afghanistan against the Taliban along with 21 and 23 SAS Regiment when he had been caught unawares and turned into the creature he was today. He knew Murphy's law was in full operation in events like these, he knew that things could go badly wrong in the space of time it took for a ghost to say 'boo'.

On the other hand, he also knew who Major-General Gary Matthews was and was very well acquainted with a certain Chief Clerk, WO1 Knowles, who had been a Marine Commando.

He huffed a deep sigh and rested his long snout on his paws. This truly sucked. If he didn't die in battle then he had zero chance of returning back to his common law wife, Julie, unless of course he went back as a guard dog. A series of little barks was all he could manage in the way of a giggle as the visual of him lying stretched out in front of the gas fire at their house in Hereford and eating Pedigree Chum from a big silver bowl floated in front of his mind and then he settled back down, this time more watchfully, scanning the areas around and in front of him for any unusual kind of movement at all.

Because of the fact that his mind in wolf form was still very very human, boredom soon set in. It wasn't that he wasn't used to long periods of being still, that was a bit of an occupational hazard in the special forces or in the military in general, but the irritated feeling of being dragged into something that he didn't want to be involved with and changed irreparably because of it was starting to get to him. He began to wonder if this was his chance to escape.

_Where would you go? Back to Jules? Back to the UK? And if Herumor wins...where then? There will be no place for you to go. You may as well start grooming your fur so that it looks really nice in front of that fireplace._

The voice of rationality rooted him to his spot behind the boulders and prevented him from taking flight. He had chosen this place because of the dark grey colour of his fur which blended nicely with the shadowed grey of the rocks. He could creep away and they wouldn't be any the wiser until the dust had settled, but something stopped him. The same something that was telling him to stay the distance, take his chances and if all went well for humankind, to fling himself on the mercy of General Matthews. After all there was rumour among the Lycans that the General numbered at least two werewolves on his staff. If he just stayed at the back and stuck to his guns about avoiding killing humans, surely the General would at least be sympathetic...

...and have him banged away in the nearest MOD laboratory. Not to mention the fact that he was AWOL from the British Army anyway.

He tried to groan in despair, but it came out like a whimper instead. Then... out of the blue something put him on high alert. His large head swivelled around, nostrils flaring, as from nowhere a tantalising scent wafted across his highly developed sense of smell.

_Man._..or rather men.

He half rose into a crouch, ears pricked, nostrils quivering and senses now fully alert. He peered down the road and saw a dark shadow figure swiftly move from one patch of cover to another, utilising the darkness as only another member of the Special Forces could. Unbeknownst to the soldiers moving up towards the road to the pass, and fortunately for them it had to be said, their commander had stopped them just short of the main group of Lycans guarding the area.

But not far short of Nate's position.

He could see them quite clearly; not to recognise faces of course because their faces were covered in black balaclavas, but the set of a pair of shoulders or width of chest and way of moving can't be totally disguised by black clothing and he almost chortled to himself when he realised that the leader of the group was his old pal Dutch Van Breda. This meant that where Dutch was, his team were never far behind. (1)

"_Bingo." _He attempted to say, but it came out sounding like a strangled soft whine.

He needed to get to them and he needed them_ not_ to shoot him on sight which meant that he needed to change back into human form. If he did it now, he would be seen by the Lycan commander and that would probably be all she wrote. He was too far away from the others in distance for his departure to be anything other than running away.

He looked back at the Lycans hidden in their positions. They could move at a ferocious speed very quickly and be on the soldiers before they could get a shot off. The soldiers would _never _make it to the mine entrance before they were torn to shreds. He doubted very much if they had been given silver bullets instead of the normal rounds, even if they could get a shot off.

In that split second he made his decision. He couldn't let old mates die the horrible death he had seen meted out to others; ripped to pieces by glistening jaws and claws like scimitars. Without another thought he slunk away down the road keeping hard to the mountainside on his right and stopping every couple of feet to crouch down for a few seconds before moving on.

He may not be one of the boys now, instead he was some kind of unnatural half man half beast, but that didn't mean that he didn't know where most, if not _all,_ of the bodies were buried and that _had_ to be worth something to his former comrades, even if all it was worth was being tossed a Bakers Jumbo Meaty Twist dog bone chew and learning to sit up and beg.

ooOoo

**04:30 hours Zulu.. just down the road from the Moria dig site...**

Dutch Van Breda could feel his senses tingling. Ever since he had been through that rift in time and through to that earlier version of earth he had found that his abilities were slightly enhanced. It wasn't that he had turned into some sort of superhero, the improvement was only in the area of being able to tell when there were other things around. It had spooked him when he first returned, he began to be able to sense presences close by even when the room was empty and once, while taking a cut through the local cemetery in Hereford, he had spotted a man leaving one of the crypts. The extra sense urgently told him to hide in the shadow of the bushes and never a man to ignore his own warnings, that was exactly what he did. Two minutes later he was glad that he had. In the moment that the wisp of clouds had passed across the moon and the silvery light of that sphere had permeated the gloomy place of the dead, the man he was concealing himself from had turned and scanned the place where he was hiding.

Dutch never told anyone about the incident, he knew he would never hear the end of it, but in his dreams he saw the horror that was that face with its yellow feral eyes and distorted features. Yet that was not the worst of it, the thing that had really freaked him out was the shiny dark red blood smeared around the mouth and the two long and sharp gleaming fangs.

So being in amongst a whole other heap of creatures that weren't meant to be either, his senses were firing off in all directions. He gritted his teeth and said nothing. All around him, members of A Troop 22 SAS Regt were concealed and waiting for the 'go'. The problem was that the intel they had been given from the boffins at HQ was spotty to say the least. They had been told very little other than the fact that their opposition was not the usual kind of enemy and they were issued special rounds for their weapons. The first clue that this was not a normal operations was the repeated instructions that firing normal rounds would have absolutely no effect on their targets and that they were to give no quarter at all.

Dutch's group from A Troop had been called in at the last minute from having a hard-earned four days leave on the orders of General Sheldon from HQ 4 Division. Whitey Black had been paged in the middle of shopping at Tesco supermarket and his wife had not been best pleased. Richie was even more in the doghouse since he'd been called while on top of his missus having the second shag of the day...Dutch had chuckled when he heard that and thanked god that he had never taken the marital plunge. The others had various, but similar, tales of woe to tell, but they were all good soldiers and no matter what else was standing to attention, they still answered the call of duty with alacrity.

And here they were, freezing their arses off on the slopes of a bloody mountain in Switzerland. None of them complained of course, they were too good at their job...in fact their job really was their life and the other parts were all just extra if only he could get rid of that strange thrumming in his head which told him that something extremely unnatural was far too close. Not only that, but there was something else. It hovered at the edge of his senses and it was driving him mad. He ground his teeth in frustration and tried to tune out the thrumming. In fact he was so busy doing that, he didn't notice the tall figure until it was right beside him. He froze as he felt something very sharp at his throat.

"What's this? A Saturdays and Sundays Special caught off his guard?"

Dutch closed his eyes and then opened them again with a snap. He would have recognised those dulcet tones anywhere. "Nate? Nate Roscoe?"

There was a low laugh. "In the not so delectable flesh my friend."

Dutch swallowed as the knife did not move. "Why the knife mate? You do know that the Meatheads (2) are looking for you right?"

The laugh came again and the thrumming grew louder in Dutch's head. The wrongness was up close and personal now and the only other warm body that was close enough to him was Nate's.

"Oh no mate." He groaned as the other shoe dropped. "What happened?"

There was a deep sigh somewhere close to his ear. "I need you to promise me that you won't turn me in or try to kill me Dutch."

The answer was immediate. "You know me better than that Nate. I would never turn a mate in without hearing his side of the story. Take the knife away and I'll hear you out. What happened?"

The knife moved from his throat. He rubbed it gingerly and stared at the tall, lanky form of Nate Roscoe as he sat back against one of the rocks.

"I'm not sure we have time for the full explanation. How about the cliff notes version?" There was the old familiar gleam of laconic humour in Nate's eyes.

Dutch nodded. "Cliff notes then."

"Okay...Afghanistan...during the visit of that General who was a Colonel at the time...Matthews? Bitten by a werewolf and I am now howling at the moon three nights of the month." Nate had gone for lightness, but the undertone to his voice was what sent shivers down Dutch's spine. He sounded utterly desperate .

"That's why you didn't report back." Dutch's reply was a flat statement and not a question.

"Couldn't. I was too busy attending werewolf boot camp." Thee humour really did spring out that time and Dutch chuckled in spite of the horror he was feeling.

"And now you're with those guys up in front?"

There was a moment's silence. "Well now, that's really what I came down to talk to you about. I'm not sure that you really know what you are up against. Did the briefing officer mention the dragons by the way?"

There was a longer silence from Dutch.

"Dragons?"

ooOoo

**Dutch Van Breda** and his team from 22 SAS Regiment were sent through the Rift in Time by General Sheldon to the War of Wrath to help bring Gary and the others back home in A Singular Honour. They ended up fighting in a battle against Sauron who was then Morgoth's Lieutenant and right hand man.

**Meatheads**...or Red Caps...slang word for the Royal Military Police or RMPs. Army cops. They wear distinctive red peaked caps or berets.


	74. Balancing Good and Evil

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby. Any references to the world created by Joss Whedon belong to him.**

**Author Note: **Sorry for the delay in posting these last chapters, I have taken a good deal of time over them in an attempt to pull all the loose strings together. So for once I am going to let the chapter speak for me apart from thanking everyone who has read the story, enjoyed, reviewed, commented, added it as a favourite story or me as a favourite author, all of which is greatly appreciated by me. This will be the penultimate chapter as the actual battle needs more chapters than I had anticipated. There will be one more chapter and then an Epilogue.

ooOoo

" I'm sorry, I didn't catch that last part on account of her neck snapping and all. Did you say the end is near... or here? "

- ** Caleb, Season 7, Buffy the Vampire Slayer**

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 74 – Balancing Good and Evil**

**06:30 hours Zulu.. The Redhorn Lodes just outside the entrance to the Foundations of Stone**

"What about the young woman?" Elrond gestured towards Willow who was still floating in the centre of the pentagram, hair completely white and surrounded by a gold glittering light.

Eönwë glanced in the direction of the pentagram. "She will come out of the trance once everyone is transported and there is one more to come."

"Well she seems quite vulnerable there." Elrond's frown puckered his forehead. "We surely cannot just let her float there when the fighting begins."

The Herald's eyes twinkled. "We won't Elrond, I promise. And she is not as vulnerable as she looks, believe me. If it makes you feel any better we can ask Sariel or Joaquim to assign a couple of Kerubim to her for protection. I do not believe she will need it, at some stage she has been changed..." He frowned deeply. "... I cannot explain it other than to say that she has become part of Arda itself. She is balanced at the edge of one of the circles of the Timeless Halls, neither wholly human, nor wholly Ainur, something new...something not entirely comprehended by those in the Halls, yet created by Eru Iluvator for what purpose we know not. She is something _between_ the Ainur and a human. We do not even know if she is bound to Arda like the Valar, Maiar and Eldar, but the Valar believe that she may be."

Elrond stared at the girl. Despite the amazing description of what she was from Eönwë, for some strange reason she reminded him of Arwen and he couldn't imagine why. This strange, but seemingly mortal, child was a quirky, impishly pretty redhead, not a tall incredibly beautiful, wise and stately maid of the Eldar. He was just about to reply to the Herald when Elladan interrupted.

"I don't mind helping to protect her." He said and there was a strangely eager note in his voice. "She reminds me of Arwen. Not to look at. It's not that. It's just that Arwen had the same aura of power about her. When Elrohir and I were younger we just thought she was a bossy-boots, but it wasn't that at all. She had a sort of...um...magic about her..." He stopped dead when he realised that Eönwë, the newly arrived Sariel and Seth, along with Ereinion and Haldir were watching him with amusement.

"Sorry...I was rambling. What can I say, she reminds me of Arwen." Elladan flushed and shrugged his shoulders.

Eönwë and Seth smiled at each other in a most mysterious fashion. Sariel laughed softly and clapped a hand on Elladan's shoulder. "You can help Ramiel and Ezekiel guard her then. I imagine between the four of you you will manage." He turned to Eönwë. "Who else are we expecting? Our people are all here. Kokabiel and Kasdaye are at the tunnel entrance with Lord Finrod, Lords Maglor and Maedhros and Chief Knowles from your office organising troop positions. Joaquim has gone down towards the Hellmouth itself with that young dwarf Arras and Master Glorfindel."

Seth made a slightly strangled sound and Sariel raised an eyebrow. "And we have a counter argument to this?"

Seth shook his head and sighed. "No...it's just that Joaquim is the head of the High Council and should have taken more protection with him than just Glorfindel and young Arras...not that I am saying Joaquim isn't capable by himself..."

"Seth, Joaquim is here to fight, just like we all are. Much is at stake here." Sariel gently stopped him from going further. "We understand your concern, but believe me, Joaquim can take care of himself."

Elrond glanced at Seth and noted with surprise that the Grigori had flushed and looked rather uncomfortable, but before he could say anything Maksim and Carver Grissom came back into the entrance of the long wide tunnel that led down to the Moria Hellmouth.

"They're moving." Maksim was brief and to the point. "They're leaving a rear party at the Watchpost and they do have large lumbering creatures very like dragons with them. So far they are not taking flight."

Eönwë looked up at the roof of the tunnel which was at least a hundred and fifty feet above them. He beckoned to Celebrimbor and Thranduil who came over. Seth sent another Kerubim to take their place watching over Willow as she waited for her final passenger.

"There _are_ dragons with them." Eönwë briefed them without further ado. "I imagine they are going to be Herumor's heavy artillery. Their fire can do considerable damage and we need to eliminate them quickly and before they manage to get airborne, even if they can get airborne in the tunnel, it may be too low."

Celebrimbor looked up at the roof and then at the entrance. "The entrance is lower but once they actually get in I believe they can take flight, although I have to say that the area outside in the Redhorn Lodes is more than high enough for them to do that. I personally believe they will assume we are all inside and set the dragons at the entrance to clear the area with fire, then they will mop up with the Lycan ground troops."

Thranduil nodded. "With that strategy there will be no need for them to take flight inside the tunnel. They are _expecting_ us to bottle our people up inside near to the entrance to the Hellmouth and the Guardian so we can protect them."

A wolfish grin spread across Sariel's face; a grin which was echoed by the no less wolfish grin on Eönwë's face.

"They think we're going to defend from inside." The Herald said softly.

Seth nodded. "Like shooting fish in a barrel."

"They're going to get a bit of a shock then aren't they?"

ooOoo

_Gwadur?_

Glorfindel almost laughed out loud when he heard to gentle probing in his mind and only stopped himself at the last minute. He felt the golden presence that was his partner in crime in Valinor deep in his soul. Together they had almost been the scourge of Mandos while awaiting re-birth. More than once they had stood under the steely, gimlet gaze of the Lord of Mandos, heads hanging in shame after some prank. They had felt his disappointment and disapproval many times and awaited their admonishment from him, but if either had gathered the courage together to look up into the dread Doomsman of the Valar's forbidding gaze they would have been utterly astonished to see a merry twinkle deep in those amaranthine eyes.

But Glorfindel would have known that joyous presence anywhere. Finrod was here in Moria, at long last and together they would battle alongside the Herald of Manwe and his Grigori brethren and be victorious. His heart suddenly felt light and he was almost dizzy with elation and happiness. He wanted to turn around and dash back along the tunnel to greet Finrod, but under the faintly amused, but stern sapphire blue gaze of the Grigori Lord, Joaquim, he immediately stilled the urge. One look at this tall ebony haired stunning creature; so similar to Eönwë and he knew better than to disobey.

The Grigori, the Elf-lord and the young Dwarf stood silently at the entrance to the circular room with its elaborate metal grid floor. A small figure robed in grey from head to foot stood equally silently in the centre of the room. It made no attempt to approach them and Joaquim firmly prevented his companions from stepping into the room. When Glorfindel looked at him enquiringly he smiled.

"I believe that setting foot as beings from this dimension will set off a chain of events that we will be unable to resolve." He said pleasantly. "The Guardian perceives one of us as his or her replacement. One foot on the grill and the deed will be done."

Arras stared in awed fascination at the small figure of the current Guardian of the Seal of Kal. "He's a dwarf, like me...at least I _think_ he is." He turned to Joaquim and had to crane his neck for the Head of the Grigori High Council towered above him and even topped the tall Elf-lord. "I think blood has to be spilled to make the person the Guardian though...or so the story goes."

Joaquim chuckled and his laughter was echoed by Glorfindel. "And do you want to take the chance little one? I believe that you only need to set foot on the metal floor to be chosen, the blood actually only _opens_ the seal itself."

Arras took a good few steps backwards and both Grigori and Elf laughed. "No indeed my Lords." He said hastily. "I would get a good telling off from my mother and father if I did not return to them."

That made them laugh even more. Joaquim smiled down at the young Dwarf. "Well then, I think perhaps we should head back to the others, I think that Lord Glorfindel has someone very special that he wishes to greet." He winked at Glorfindel who grinned in delight.

As they left the Guardian, neither the Elf nor the Dwarf saw Joaquim turn back and bow deeply to the small grey-robed figure standing in the middle of the seal. After a moment's hesitation, the Guardian returned the compliment.

As Glorfindel rushed to greet a delighted Finrod on their return to their companions, Joaquim spoke to Eönwë .

"The Guardian knows why we are here. I believe that he is normally not present in a corporeal form. He was waiting there for us. He is the last form of defence before the Seal and the Hellmouth beneath."

Eönwë nodded. "As we suspected. He will have some power to defend his charge, but if even one drop of blood is spilled, the Seal of Kal will open and the negative power from the Void will seep through and erode that power. They will try to reach the Seal and use blood."

"And that one thing above all others bothers me." Joaquim frowned. "My shamans tell me that it must be the blood of an innocent...this would mean a child or one untouched by evil." He made a broad gesture around him in a wide arc to include everyone gathered there. "Nobody here has been untouched by evil. Your Elves...you...the humans with you...all have now been touched by the deepest evil. We, the Grigori, are not pure. Who will they choose for this purpose?"

Eönwë only just managed to prevent a slight shudder. He shook his head. "I know not...I have spoken with my wife...my daughter is safe and guarded by Maiar warriors; they are watched over by the Valar themselves. I doubt it could be either of them and Kim has been touched by the evil that has gradually surrounded us. The only other child connected to us is Sariel's son..."

"He is guarded by Kerubim, as is my wife." Sariel interrupted smoothly. "Also Asradel, the Guardian of the Valley of Fire, appointed by the Source of All Power itself is with them and the house guardians will admit no one. However...before we left...Asradel gave me a rather cryptic message. He told me to look to the child of the wolf. I have absolutely no fucking idea what he means by that...presumably the human child of a Lycan. Or a Lycan child? Can Lycans procreate?""

Maksim had been standing quietly by listening and also tuning his natural senses to what was and had been for century upon century the natural prey of his kind. He was busy assessing the nearness of the Lycan hordes when he caught the back end of Sariel's sentence.

"They cannot procreate." He said softly in answer to the Grigori. "Not even in their human form once turned. Like us they lose the ability to nurture. We...we both procreate by siring another from the bite. We differ in one way only and that is that the vampire _needs_ to ingest the blood of their victim in order to turn a human and mostly they will kill, not create. Only if they intend to sire do they induce their prey to taste their blood and then they drain them. The blood of the vampire inside the human is what brings it back to a life...of sorts. With the Lycans, they usually do not kill if they intend to turn. A scratch, a bite it all it needs, but these..." He gestured with his hand. "These are different somehow..."

"Some are not being turned by being bitten." Draugluin spoke up. "The children who were taken were given a drug...a chemical which has induced the changes in them, but I perceive that the programme was not moving fast enough for Herumor. The drug worked on the children but not on the adults and they had to be taken the traditional way."

There was a hushed, saddened and outraged silence for a moment, then as Eönwë was about to speak, Jeff Harris, currently Draugluin's sidekick as Maglor and Elladan had wickedly dubbed him, was startled by the sharp ring of his mobile. Face creased in astonishment at the idea that he had actually got a signal so far underground, he looked up, saw the eyes of all upon him and flushed bright red.

"Um...I...I had better answer it I expect. It's my sister." He stammered and flicked the button on the mobile phone. The conversation was one-sided, but nobody near him needed to hear what was being said on the other end of the conversation; they could see it from the horror and devastation in his eyes. The line on the other side must have gone dead and the phone dropped from his slackened grip and clattered onto the floor as he closed his eyes. Hot tears trickled from the corners and ran down his grubby cheeks, but when he opened his eyes as Draugluin gently caught and supported him by a strong grip on his shoulder, they were already turning amber and bestial.

"Calm child." Draugluin said softly. "Be calm, this is not the time for the change. Tell us..."

Jeff stood breathing heavily in the circle of Draugluin's strong arm for a moment, then he heaved a huge breath, closed his eyes and opened them again. Much to everyone's relief they were back to his normal colour. He turned a pitiful face and tear-washed gaze to the Maia who had become his friend and mentor.

"My nephew..." He whispered, the full horror finally showing on his face. "My nephew's been taken. My sister's frantic. Things...things like nothing she has seen before came and took him. She's not hurt, they didn't hurt her. She said it was as if they wanted her to be alive."

Eönwë came over and gently gripped the young man by his forearms. "Jeff, I know this is devastating for you...but the things that came for your nephew, were they Lycans or something else? It is important or I would not distress you by asking."

Jeff straightened up, his eyes were bleak, but his mouth was set in a determined line. "_You're _not distressing me, the news is distressing me...she said that they looked like monks in brown robes with hoods. They even knocked at the door." The tears flowed again. "You don't expect kidnappers to come knocking on the front door do you? The phone was ringing, the baby was crying, she thought they were like Jehovah's Witnesses so she opened the door. She asked them to hang on while she answered the phone. She didn't look at their faces until they had followed her in and picked the baby up. Then..." Fresh horror filled his eyes. "Then she noticed that they had no eyes...she said it was like someone had removed their eyes and stitched them up. They knocked her back and headed for the door with the baby. She flew after them and tried to fight, but they were too strong. One of them backhanded her again and when she was lying on the ground he approached her and she thought she was going to die, but he didn't kill her, he just looked down on her. She pleaded for her life, for the baby and he told her that his orders weren't to kill her, then he told her that the First needed her and those left behind to suffer through the child."

"The First." Eönwë shook his head in both anger and despair.

Elrond stepped forward and looked quizzically at him. "The First what?"

Eönwë shuddered slightly. "The First Evil...Melkor. The creatures that took the child are called Bringers. It was thought that the Slayer and her people had destroyed them all when Sunnydale fell, but apparently not. We can expect Herumor's army to have a few more of these Bringers."

"Can they be sliced and diced?" Maedhros asked, he executed a vicious sweep of his long gleaming sword.

Eönwë smiled grimly. "They are strong and a lower order of demon, but they can be killed."

"Good." Jeff's voice was equally grim. "That means they can be torn limb from limb then...but what about my nephew? He's eighteen months old for god's sake!" He gripped the Herald's arm. "We've _got _to get him back...I can't...we can't lose him." His plea ended in a heart-rending sob.

Eönwë looked over his head to Joaquim, Sariel, Penemue and the others. Their faces were filled with compassion.

Sariel drew in a horrified and angry breath. "The child of the wolf...Jeff is a werewolf and the child is of his bloodline."

Jeff looked up at him, his eyes now dull. "They're going to use him as the blood sacrifice to open the Seal aren't they? He's just a baby...how can they? He's never hurt anyone, he's never even had time to live any of his life."

And not one of them could give him any words of comfort or denial.

ooOoo

**07:00 hours Zulu.. the Foundations of Stone**

It was the lull before the storm, the deep breath before chaos reigned around them. Finrod embraced Glorfindel who held him at arm's length.

"It is good to see you again gwadur, even if it is under bad circumstances." Glorfindel grinned at him madly.

Finrod laughed. "This is Arda Marred my friend, since when are the circumstances anything but bad?"

Glorfindel drew in a breath, for when he looked closely at his friend and brother he could see the old fine lines of strain about his eyes, lines that had been erased once he had settled back into the life of a Reborn and were now back.

"Has it been so bad?" His voice was soft.

Finrod shook his head. "What can I say to you? I am seeing life among the modern Secondborn in their world without the grace and light of the Eldar at first-hand and it isn't pretty. So much sadness, greed, evil and violence and yet...every now and again there is a light shining in the wilderness and I think to myself...for them Findarato, carry on for them. They need the light Glorfindel, they crave it even though they cannot see it, even while all is dark around them. Their capacity for facing certain death and then rising up in challenge to it is beyond wonderful. So brave, so foolhardy, so vulnerable and yet they do prevail."

Glorfindel drew a pattern in the dust. They were perched in their positions in the high rocks which surrounded the dusty bowl that was the Redhorn Lodes. Here and there he could see red brick buildings and outhouses, rails with rotting, disused mining cars, some still filled with ore and rock. Far in the distance another set of magnificent terraces rose upwards, some of the highest rooms actually up near the roof of what was an immense underground cavern. He marvelled at the light. So far nobody had figured out where the light was coming from, there hadn't been time.

It had been decided to keep the battle outside the wide tunnel leading to the Seal of Kal and the Guardian, they knew despite the reinforcements they were still outnumbered, so an ambush of sorts had been devised. Maksim and Carver had gone back up towards the Watchpost at great danger to themselves. Eönwë and the Grigori commanders wanted to know the location of the child, soon to be offered as a sacrifice if the forces of good failed.

"So..." He said slowly. "If we survive this and _don't_ get sent back to Mandos are you going back to Valinor? There is talk that the Valar may allow two way travelling along the straight road, not for mortals coming to Valinor of course, but for those of the Eldar who may wish to return here."

Finrod shook his head. "I am not sure of the wisdom of that. Not yet anyway." He said sadly. "The Secondborn are different to the way they were in our day. They are, for the most part, bereft of spirituality. They worship material wealth and status with no thought for their Creator. If I could show you just how much evil there is among many of the criminals I deal with every day." There was a long shudder. "I worked on a serial killer case no so long ago...it was utterly dreadful. He preyed on young homeless girls and boys around the King's Cross area...King's Cross is a railway station, one of the main ones for travel from the north of England to London. He...he dismembered them Glorfindel. He cut off their hands and feet and then boiled their heads. They were just children, their lives had hardly begun and some psychopath took it away from them in a hideous fashion. And there is more..."

He turned to Glorfindel and there was agony and despair in his blue eyes. "This world Glorfindel...this human world..._it makes inhuman monsters_." His voice dropped to a whisper.

Glorfindel eyed him. "And yet still you will not return." Finrod opened his mouth and Glorfindel hushed him gently. "I can see it in your eyes, you want to help, to cleanse. This police job that you have embraced is a real tangible way to help. It gives you purpose. Your Adar and Naneth would not recognise you Finda...I'm not even sure your wife would either."

"I know I have changed. I know that I cannot just go back and leave the Secondborn to God and good neighbours again...even if there _were_ any good neighbours. We were _meant_ to help them. I allowed myself to be taken away before, I will not allow it again, even if the odds are stacked against us. I trust the Herald and I trust the others, they are good people. Anyway, can you imagine what Lord Namo would say if we turned up in his Halls again?"

Glorfindel looked horrified. "I never thought about that. He won't be pleased. We won't get reborn again this side of the Dagor Dagorath!"

Finrod burst out laughing and then hastily smothered the sound as both Eönwë and Seth looked over at him from where they were concealed. It was just as well that they did because the next they knew there was a deep rumbling noise, like the sound of many feet tramping along the ground. A rock which was perched near one that Finrod was sitting near dislodged itself and went clattering down the deep rocky slope, bouncing and splintering as it crashed from rock to rock. The whole earthen floor was reverberating with the sound of extremely heavy footfalls.

"Aye aye..." Finrod peered above the rock in front of him. "That'll be the dragons I imagine. Not very stealthy are dragons. They sort of remove the sneaky factor from the idea of being sneaky."

Glorfindel sniggered softly.

The huge cloud of dust on the near horizon confirmed Finrod's comment and soon a phalanx of lumbering creatures with leathery wings folded back against their sides came into view. The men alongside them would soon throw off their human avatars and reveal the hideous wolven forms.

"Bloody Nora." They heard one of the British humans, who was behind and slightly above them, comment sotto voce. "There's a hell of a lot of them. And what's that big fucker behind them with the whip? Shit on a stick."

Glorfindel groaned. "Please..._please_ tell me it's not what I think it is." He buried his face in his hands.

Finrod popped his head up very briefly to check, then he sat down against the rock and grinned. "Okay...I _won't_ tell you that they have a Balrog with them."

Eönwë and Seth clambered down and stood beside the Grigori leaders who were now in front of the tunnel entrance, Elrond was up with Thranduil, Chief Knowles, Maglor, Maedhros, Haldir and Celebrimbor on the opposite side of the tunnel entrance to Finrod and Glorfindel and the human contingent of the original patrol. From behind them Eönwë and the Grigori heard the unmistakable sounds of metamorphosis and when Seth turned to look Draugluin and Jeff were standing there in werewolf form, eyes glowing amber and long wicked claws unsheathed.

The Kerubim were scattered around in defensive positions, and inside the tunnel Elladan stood just inside the pentagram along with the two Grigori Ramiel and Ezekiel. Willow remained as she had been, serenely floating a few feet above the ground, her white hair floating around her head and her eyes closed, however there was a faint smile on her lips. They were the last line of defence before the Hellmouth itself.  
Elladan tightened his grip on his sword. He also had a P90, the Kerubim were armed with only their swords, but they looked forbidding and formidable. A huge shout went up from outside the tunnel. Ramiel turned to the Elf and grinned ferociously.

"Showtime!"

ooOoo

**08:00 hours Zulu**

Outside the tunnel Eönwë had drawn his sword. It flashed as he thrust it into the air. Soon he would give the signal. The advancing army of snarling Lycans, brown robed Bringers and those Orcs that had survived the culling by the Senior Partners thundered towards them.

"Oh look." Kasdaye said in a mildly interested tone that was belied by the feral look in his eyes and the almost unbearably bright silver light beginning to leak from the corners. "They're going to do it the old way."

Eönwë turned and grinned at Seth. "All righty then... you take the first three thousand on the left and I'll take the first three thousand on the right and may the best Ainur win!"

"Are we keeping count?" Seth quipped back at him.

"I believe that the trend was set in stone in a certain battle on the plains of Pelennor in the third age by Legolas Thranduilion and Gimli, son of Gloin. I don't think we would be holding our end up if we didn't continue it." He waved his sword in the air. "CRY GOD FOR HARRY, ENGLAND AND ST GEORGE!" He bellowed and ran forward into the fray followed by tall figures of the Shining Serpents while covering fire burst all around them.

"If I get shot in the arse, I am _never_ speaking to you again." Muttered Penemue to Sariel who threw back his head and laughed.

The battle was joined.

ooOoo

In the background to the main battle a couple of things were happening.

At the rear of Herumor's forces, a group of elite Special Forces troops led by a Lycan were swiftly coming up to the Watchpost, much to the surprise of Orgrim, his Naugrim warriors and the Kerubim who had been escorting the Naugrim non-combatants to what used to be the gates leading to what had been Eregion and were approaching the Watchpost from the other direction.

At the same time that both slightly startled groups met up just outside the Watchpost and were eyeing each other warily, Maksim and Carver Grissom had slunk up the wide stairs killing as they went. They were joined by the Grigori who had been left behind on watch. It took a couple of minutes for Maksim and Carver to brief them all and the combined force then moved through the remaining enemy rear party like a dose of salts. Before they left all for dead they did induce one of the dying Lycans who had transformed back into human form to talk. They learned from him that Herumor himself was at the rear of his main forces guarded by a Balrog. The child was with him. He sneered at them and Dutch calmly shot him between the eyes.

"Just puttin' him out of his misery." He shrugged. "He was just a big dog after all. No offence meant." He threw at Nate Roscoe who shrugged.

"None taken mate."

They realised very swiftly that none of them except the Kerubim and perhaps Nate were capable of taking down a Balrog. The Naugrim in particular went a rather pale green at the news. Everyone else just looked confused.

"What the hell is a Balrog?" Asked Carver.

One of the viper faced Grigori turned his bright gaze on the human. "A foe you cannot fight my friend."

Maksim looked at Carver. "Once of us will have to go back and tell Lord Eönwë where the child is. And I think it had better be me. I can move faster and I am stronger than you."

Carver nodded. "Okay mate...look after yourself all right?"

A smile flitted across the vampire's saturnine features. "You too Carver...we will meet at the end and have a drink."

"As long as it's beer or whisky, I'm all yours."

With that Maksim disappeared in a blur of speed, leaving the SAS troopers, the Dwarves and the Grigori to bring up the rear. Carver couldn't help being relieved to see that the soldiers had heavy grenade launchers with them.

Meanwhile, in the pentangle, amidst the terrifying and horrific sounds of battle; grunts, cries, shrieks and snarls the air was crackling with magic as Willow Rosenberg teleported her last passenger into Moria.

ooOoo


	75. A score to settle

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby. Any references to the world created by Joss Whedon belong to him.**

**Author Note: ** Nothing to say except again, thanks to all who have reviewed, past and present. This is the penultimate chapter, only the Epilogue left and I can then concentrate on the new story which has taken a back seat while I put together the battle chapter. Enjoy.

ooOoo

" **Giles:** Try to be very specific. What exactly are you afraid of?  
**Willow:** Well for starters, the Hellmouth's gettin' all rumbly again. And now I know it's got teeth. And are those literal teeth, 'cause I don't know if I can handle it. And what if I _can_ handle it? Does that mean I have to be a bigger, badder bad-ass than the source of all badness? And- well, what if I give up all this control stuff and I go all veiny and homicidal again? And what if—  
**Giles:** They won't take you back?  
**Willow:** Uh-huh.  
**Giles:** Willow, we could spend another two years here training and practising and learning to hone your powers and still there'd be no way of knowing for sure that the friends you left behind you... are still your friends.  
**Willow:** Well, sure. I mean, if you put it that way, duh.  
**Giles:** I'd love to offer you some guarantee that you'd be welcomed back to Sunnydale with open arms but I can't. You may not be wanted. But you _will_ be needed.  
**Willow:** Is that all ya got?  
**Giles:** For the moment, yes. "

**- Willow and Giles in England, Beneath you, Season 7, Buffy the Vampire Slayer**

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 75 – A score to settle**

**09:00 hours Zulu.. The Redhorn Lodes just outside the entrance to the Foundations of Stone**

Unbeknownst to the players on the battleground, two others had also chosen it as a place to meet. Each had a vested interests of a sort in the Hellmouth and neither really wanted to see Herumor as a victor. Unfortunately neither were given the permission to interfere in what both their respective authorities decided was not a battle they would interfere in.

At least not directly.

Raguel, personal messenger to God, The Source of All Power and Things or Eru Iluvator depending on your point of view, did not immediately approach the stocky broad-shouldered figure who was leaning over casually watching the battle far below him, one cowboy-booted foot up on a convenient rock. Confident that his presence had been unnoticed he also observed the fracas below him and then studied the broad, surprisingly open, fresh face and blue eyes of his opposite number in the Senior Partners. Finally he cleared his throat and Lindsay McDonald turned to find the tall figure of one of the most senior Ainur standing quietly behind him.

"Oh man...y'all ought to not creep up on folk, ya know?" He smiled a boyish smile which did not quite reach his eyes.

"My apologies." Raguel said quietly. "You seemed immersed in the events down below. I did not wish to surprise you."

Lindsey's grin grew even wider. "Yeah...pretty cool huh? I must say that this Herald of Manwe fellah cuts a _fine _figure on the battlefield. _Very_ impressive. That's a pretty awesome group he has with him an' all. Almost makes me wish we were on the same side..._almost_." He drawled. He looked down at the furious fighting below him. "He's gonna win of course, but not without a sacrifice. He does know that right?"

Raguel's gaze followed Lindsey's and he picked out the tall figure of Eönwë effortlessly scything his way through the enemy leaving trails of broken Lycans, Bringers and orcs wherever he went...and indeed he seemed to be everywhere at once, as did his Elven and Grigori companions. Raguel noticed that apart from some obvious mortals such as the young descendent of Elessar, Jim Moore, the American Hal Kenwood and Eönwë's Staff Assistant Chief Knowles, the others had all been left in positions out of the main fighting offering supporting fire so the chances of them dying were lessened.

"Of course." He replied smoothly, not allowing even one vestige of expression on his features that would indicate to this scion of evil that he knew any more than Lindsey or the Senior Partners did. "Lord Eönwë is in full possession of _all _the facts."

He then hesitated and seated himself on one large rock. He did not gesture for Lindsey to join him and despite his now seated position Lindsey was suddenly uncomfortably aware that instead of towering over Raguel, he actually felt a lot smaller. Raguel noticed with amusement that as the representative of the Senior Partners turned away again to watch the fighting, there was a small muscle jumping in his clenched jaw.

"Makes you wonder." The Texan suddenly said softly.

Raguel's calm expression did not change, although he registered a more human streak to Lindsay than he had previously detected. "About what?"

"Would they be fightin' as hard as they undoubtedly are if they knew that practically everything was arranged, done and dusted before they even landed the first blow." The Texan's tone was bleak.

"Not everything." Raguel replied. "The battle could still be lost and Herumor's fate is undecided."

Lindsay finally sat down. "I meant the _ultimate _outcome. The Senior Partners are quite clear on their standpoint as, I believe, are the powers in the Timeless Halls. An apocalypse does _not _their purposes, nor does it suit yours; in spite of the common belief that this is all Wolfram and Hart ever wish for. An apocalypse is a death wieldin', life-changin' set of events and there is no ultimate winner. The Senior Partners don't want that to happen. The First Evil...Melkor as you call him is a loose cannon who doesn't play well with others I hear from reports that filter back from the Void."

Raguel allowed a ghost of a smile to cross his face. "I believe that describes him quite adequately."

Lindsay also smiled. "Great...so _you_ don't want him runnin' loose...the _Senior Partners_ don't want him runnin' loose..." He shrugged casually. "Seems to me that keeping him in the Void where he belongs is a win-win situation for both parties. Your champion and his bright shiny friends get to go home and live in peace. For a while at least. The balance of good and evil is returned, everyone's livin' in clover."

Raguel laughed reluctantly. "I am still trying to get my head around the fact that you don't want Herumor or Melkor to win. Yet much can happen before the end. I should also add that if it had not been for the unfortunate intervention by your..._Senior Partners_, Herumor would not have discovered the Hellmouth in the first place."

For the first time Lindsey seemed to show some abashment. "How very _unkind_ of you to point that out...and of course, it's true...our bad. I can assure you that heads rolled for that error in tactics... and I mean _literally_ people who went in to dispose of the cloning operation were given strict instructions to do the deed _away_ from the Foundations of Stone." Lindsey shrugged, made a gesture with his hand and something very much like a window appeared beside them. "Oh well, the damage is done. Your Herald would have had to face Herumor sooner or later anyway. So what do you say we have a gander at the nitty-gritty part of the programme?"

Raguel turned to look. The window was showing the events closer to the mouth of the cavern. He drew a sharp breath in when he saw the tall, white haired cadaverous figure of Herumor step across the threshold. In his arms he held what appeared to be a sleeping child. The monstrous creature that had accompanied him stopped just outside the entrance, apparently commanded by Herumor to stay on guard while he proceeded unchecked, or so he thought, down the tunnel to the Hellmouth and the waiting Guardian.

Lindsey chuckled. "Seems like our bad guy has found himself a concealment glamour powerful enough to fool a whole passel of Angels."

"I thought you weren't in favour of him succeeding in his aim to open the Hellmouth and inflict the horrors therein on the planet." Raguel commented dryly.

"Oh _I_ ain't in favour of it." Lindsey managed to reduce his laughter to a wry grin. "It's just that ya gotta love a trier. Guy's got some balls, ya have to admit. He's got a whole _heap_ of avengin' angels after him trying to stop him from gettin' to his target and he coolly walks through them all without a care in the world. Anyway...he doesn't realise that he's not the only one down there now does he?"

The Texan pointed and Raguel could see the bright sparkles that heralded a supernatural Wiccan teleport. Someone else was coming to the party courtesy of Willow Rosenberg Airlines.

"And if ah'm not mistaken...here comes the man of the hour, better late than never."

As the sparkles cleared the figure of a middle-aged man with slightly receding brown hair, glasses and dressed in a tweed jacket and trousers materialised in the middle of the Foundations of Stone.

Lindsey burst out laughing. "Man oh man...gotta love a guy in tweed. Trust an English librarian to be dressed so... _understated _in the middle of pitched battle. Although I must say that I _love_ the sword. Nice touch that." Then he turned and looked directly in Raguel's face and there was a twinkle of malicious humour in his blue eyes. "But then...this guy is no _ordinary_ human librarian is he?"

Raguel did not answer him and after a while the Texan seemed to accept his silence in a good humoured fashion.

"Have to tell you that I love, love, _love_ the white robes by the way..." Lindsey turned and scrutinised the Ainur with his eyes half closed like a fashion designer at a show. "I think maybe just a _touch_ of gold though, just to offset all the _blindin'_ whiteness and purity...ah'm almost getting snow-blindness here just a lookin' at you. Perhaps a nice slim gold belt to break up the impact?"

A slightly bemused smile flitted across Raguel's face. "I will take your fashion suggestions under advisement Mr McDonald." He said mildly.

ooOoo

**09:30 hours Zulu...the Chamber of the Seal of Kal**

Willow Rosenberg blinked as the teleportation spell came to an end. As always after doing strong magicks she felt slightly disorientated and therefore did not immediately see who it was had come through. She was alone by now since Elladan and her two Kerubim guards had left her to join the fighting on the assurance by the warlocks and shamans that the field surrounding her was impenetrable by physical or magical means and did not see Dr Rupert Giles calmly follow the sepulchral figure of Herumor down the wide tunnel towards the chamber where the Hellmouth and its Guardian awaited them.

Another was also blithely unaware of Giles. The spell surrounding Herumor which prevented those outside in the battle from seeing him, the Balrog which he left at the entrance or his burden was a very powerful one, but it did have a downside. It also prevented him from seeing other beings who were around him until he dismissed it. It had not mattered outside in the Redhorn Lodes, anyone he bumped into would have just been aware of a moment of icy cold. He could however see his actual surroundings so he walked unerringly and unchallenged through the bitter fighting until he stood outside the chamber at last.

The chamber was open as it always was, the rock face did not close over until someone was actually inside and standing on the Seal of Kal itself. Inside Herumor could see the small grey-robed figure waiting in the very centre of the seal. He felt an uncharacteristic flutter in his gut. This was it! The culmination of his planning which, granted, had gone badly awry at times, but soon he would greet his Master and accept the just rewards due to him.

Herumor was actually feeling excited and stopped for a moment to explore this new and strange sensation. That action would prove to be his ultimate undoing in a manner completely unforeseen by either himself, Melkor or even the Powers That Be, be they Valar or Ainur in the Timeless Halls.

Rupert Giles also stopped when Herumor came to an abrupt halt. He stood behind a copper-hued stalactite and tried to make himself as inconspicuous as he possibly could. He had no idea how Melkor's new best friend had concealed his presence from Eönwë and the others, but he knew it was strong magicks. He could almost _see_ the dark purple and lilac coloured haze floating around him. Giles cast a quick look back at the pentagram, now quite far in the distance. He could sense that Willow was coming to herself, but was satisfied that she was safe within the pentagram and if necessary could teleport herself away if threatened.

All around him was deathly silence. Not the comfortable silence of a peaceful night, but a heavy silence that weighed down the soul. In his current human and very mortal form he felt woefully inadequate for the task in front of him. The sword felt comforting in his hand and the gun was tucked inside his belt but against the magicks that this creature had at his disposal both weapons would probably prove useless.

Far away in the west, along the Straight Road, Valar and Maiar watched along with the three Kings of the Eldar, Ingwe, Arafinwe and Olwe as events unfurled courtesy of Eru Iluvator. The Maia Olorin had no reason to love the man who had once been the scourge of the Third Age of Men, Dwarves and Elves, but the sight of the vulnerability of his former fellow Maia touched him deep in his heart. Whatever Annatar had done in the form of Sauron he was trying to make amends. He could have sat in safety in the wilds of Scotland and allowed Eönwë and the others to do the fighting for him, yet he had chosen to come and try to make a difference.

Lady Nienna and Lord Irmo, who had both known and worked with Olorin for time unsurpassed watched his face as he closed his eyes and began to concentrate. They knew what he was doing and they smiled faintly at each other. Irmo glanced at the Elder King who gave an almost imperceptible nod, an action also intercepted by Lord Namo and Lady Este. All four Valar immediately disappeared, but such was the magnetic attraction of what they were seeing and horrified fascination of the three Elves that they didn't even notice them go.

Deep down the very depths of Moria Rupert Giles heard a voice in his head and he instantly knew what it was he had to do and he was given access to some of the vast knowledge he had acquired in many thousands of years of being Sauron. In fact the knowledge that he was given wouldn't have been very new to Willow who was one of the most powerful white witches in the entire world with considerable knowledge of the dark arts, but Giles had had no intention of involving her beyond the teleporations. She was like a daughter to him, just as Buffy and Dawn were. They had all risked their young lives enough and he had no intention of allowing her to be any more at risk than she already was just by being there.

No.. he knew exactly what would happen if Willow knew what he intended. Strangely he suddenly felt no fear. A feeling of immense calm swept over him and he felt at peace. Just as reaching and taking the Seal of Kal was the culmination of Herumor's career, it was, ironically, also the culmination of his former master's career. They each had their part to play and the victor would receive his reward. For Herumor that meant a seat at Melkor's right hand.  
For Rupert Giles, Watcher aka Annatar aka Sauron aka Mairon, Maia of Aule it meant the final redemption for his past sins and no price for him was too high.

Willow didn't know what it was that alerted her to the presence of others in the wide tunnel leading down to the Hellmouth and she was not to know for a very long time afterwards, but something pricked at her highly honed and developed Wiccan senses. Satisfied that she was still within the safety of the pentagram and the barriers were still in place, she allowed herself to sink to the dusty floor of the cavern, went to the edge of the circle and peered cautiously up and down the tunnel.

At first nothing seemed untoward. She could hear the sounds of battle outside and was about to weave a protection barrier around herself and go out to see what help she could offer when what she described afterwards to Eönwë, Seth and the others was nothing less than a massive wall of powerful magic nearly knocked her flying from the direction of down the tunnel. Someone...or rather a number of 'someones' were down there and doing magic. She decided that going down to look was probably better than going out to tell the tall gorgeous angel person in charge that she suspected that foul play was going on down there...after all, what could the angel person do that she couldn't?

So after weaving her strongest protection spell around her, she crept down the long wide tunnel with its many copper coloured stalactites and stalagmites and the rocks and walls shot through with shining silvery threads of mithril unknowingly hot on the heels of her friend and mentor and the head villain of the piece and the First Evil's new henchman. Imagine her surprise when she saw the unmistakable figure of Rupert Giles just ahead of her. He had come to a complete standstill near the wide entrance to what appeared to be a large cavern and was now standing silently watching something or someone that she could not yet see. In her efforts to move forward quietly she inadvertently kicked a largish red stone which crumbled and deposited something like a dull silver crystal at her feet. The slight noise did reach Giles's ears and he turned quickly, but she ducked down and remained that way for for a few seconds. She picked the crystal up as she straightened and shoved it in her jacket pocket.

By this time Giles had disappeared and she assumed that he had entered the large cavern along with whatever or whoever he had been observing, so she started to walk as quietly as she could down towards the open cavern entrance.

The closer she got the more it appeared very clear what had happened and what the wall of magic had done. It had sealed the outer entrance to the Foundations of Stone itself and destroyed what may have probably been the entrance to the cavern because the perfectly oval shaped entrance now had heaps of rubble on either side of it. As she neared the entrance itself she could now see that there were three figures inside the cavern. In fact there were four people in there but what she didn't see was the drugged form of the small toddler in Herumor's grasp.

Willow didn't need to stand in the entrance to feel the magical barrier that had been erected over the entrance, but the sight that met her eyes was enough to set her frantically gathering up her own considerable power to try and breach it. Inside a tall, very nasty looking skeletal man with long wispy white hair was exchanging some sort of conversation with Giles who was standing defensively in front of a smaller figure in grey robes. His sword was drawn but that didn't seem to worry the skeleton, as Willow nicknamed him. In fact he seemed rather amused at his opposition. Willow closed her eyes and concentrated but her fears for Giles were overriding her abilities and by the time she had tried and failed three times to punch a hole through the barrier tears of frustration were pouring down her cheeks.

Meanwhile the altercation had grown between Giles and the skeleton person who had finally laid his burden down on the metal grille covering the floor and in that moment Willow felt a rush of absolute blind panic as she recognised what the metal grille was and why the child was there. She had seen something similar many times and been there when it opened enough to do its deadly deeds. She was in a Hellmouth and that was what these shiny people were fighting for. The child was the innocent sacrifice. This was the real deal, the Granddaddy of Hellmouths and it required the blood of a complete innocent to open it.

A sob of utter despair left her as she saw Giles reach out and grasp the skeleton by his arm only to be swatted away as if he was nothing more than a fly. She was now sobbing in earnest. What use were her powers if all she could do was stand by and watch those she loved be killed? Thoughts of her former dead love Tara McClay, shot by accident filled her mind and she fell to her knees and poured her misery onto the dusty floor.

ooOoo

**09:50 hours Zulu...the Chamber of the Seal of Kal**

"_You?_ You are the champion of Light?"

Herumor's already rasping voice cracked with disbelief as he stared at the innocuous looking human who was wearing no protective armour of any description and wore glasses which meant that his sight was probably quite poor. He was armed with a sword, but Herumor was armed with all the power that could be filtered into him. How did this poor foolish creature even_ begin_ to think that he could prevail over the might that was Melkor's second Lieutenant?

Giles realised in an instant that Herumor did not recognise anything in him that might relate even in a small way to the power that had been the Dark Lord Sauron. He also realised that this ignorance would probably work in his favour, he knew Willow was fully awake now and suspected that she had followed him. He needed to tell her, somehow...anyhow...that she must go and fetch Eönwë and not linger here where she could not help him. Oh for the ability to farspeak that he had when he was a Maia.

_Mairon, my friend, can you hear me?_

Giles was so rattled by the sudden voice of Olorin, who had been Mithrandir inside his head that it almost unbalanced him.

_Y..yes...I can hear you...but how?_

_That is not important, all you need to know for now is that the Valar have given you back your ability to farspeak. Although it is limited and speaking with the Red Witch is not possible you should be able to communicate with one who will be sent to her. She is born of this person's bloodline and therefore there is a direct link between them. Do not ask questions of me, there is little time._

Giles was in a quandary, he had been bantering back and forth while Olorin was speaking to him but Herumor's patience was wearing thin. As soon as he lost interest in knowing who his opponent was he would bind him with magic and kill the little boy and then the deed would be done, the Hellmouth would be open. Then, just out of the corner of his eye he saw someone he thought he knew but had never thought to see again within the Circles of the Earth. She was tall and slender but bore a stately air. Long ebony hair covered her like a cloak, her eyes were of a deep blue grey that looked familiar and yet not familiar, they were filled with compassion and a small, slightly sad smile hovered around her beautiful mouth. He could also see Willow, tears pouring down her face, trying hard to break through the force field that Herumor had set in place, but he knew that her efforts were useless. His heart almost broke in two when she fell to her knees on the dusty, rocky ground and sobbed inconsolably.

Another voice sounded soft and melodic in his mind...an Elf...only an Elven female could sound like that.

_Mairon...who was known once as Sauron. I am Arwen Undomiel, daughter of Elrond of Imladris, granddaughter of Galadriel and wife of Aragorn Elessar. Hear me now, I do not have long on this plain of existence and only exist here through the will of the Lord of Mandos. I will pass your message onto the mortal child, my descendant. What would you have me tell her?_

Giles panicked. Herumor had moved away from him and was bending down to the child who was stirring sleepily. He knew he did not have the strength to defeat Herumor, but he could take the child's place if he could distract Herumor grab the child and somehow hand him to the Guardian. He glanced quickly at the Guardian who gave him an imperceptible nod to show he understood what Giles' intentions were. Then he looked at the Elf maid waiting patiently.

_Comfort her..._ His tone was more harsh than he intended but he could tell that she understood. _Tell her that I can only hold Herumor off for a short while. She must find Eönwë and get him here to finish this. By then...by then... _His voice filled with sorrow and fell away. She smiled at him and moved without sound to his side.

_I will do as you ask. You have more strength than you realise but I will do for you what I did for the Ringbearer all those millennia ago and pass whatever grace I have left to you to help you withstand your enemy._

Then she was gone, but he felt a light and warmth sweep through him. He suddenly felt about ten feet tall. He stepped forward towards Herumor who seemed to sense a change in him and stood up leaving the child unharmed, the knife that he had been about to use to complete his deadly task hung loosely in his hand and he had a look of astonishment on his skeletal face.

"You seek to challenge me? Are you a fool? I can offer you much, human." He spat at Giles who immediately went into fighting stance. "Riches and power beyond your imagining..."

Giles almost burst out laughing as he recognised his own words as Sauron being thrown back at him. Instead a grin spread across his face, but the merriment was belied by the feral and deadly look in his eyes.

"Oh I don't know about that." He said calmly. "I can imagine rather a lot you know!"

And then he struck out with the sword with all the power he had behind him. The knife Herumor had been holding fell to the ground with a sharp clunk. He looked at it dazedly and did not seem to realise at first that his hand was still attached to the knife and not to his arm. Black blood oozed thickly out of the stump. Herumor roared in fury and began to weave a spell to bind this ridiculous and puny mortal creature who had dared challenge him. He whirled and crouched and the dark magicks began to flow from his thin fingers like black smoke. The Guardian then took his own chance and moved forward. He picked up the child and then moved back with him into the centre of the Seal. He turned his back to protect the little one from the foul magicks beginning to fill the chamber.

In the meantime Willow had been standing, rooted to the spot in abject misery when the most beautiful woman she had ever seen in her entire life appeared in front of her and passed Giles's message onto her. She glanced at Giles just as he lunged towards the skeleton person, but realised that she could do nothing to help him. She turned to thank the lovely woman, but there was just empty space where she had been. Willow took off at a sprint back along the tunnel to where the Balrog was now being faced down by a very determined Eönwë who had realised that something was very amiss when Maksim reported that he could no longer see Herumor or his kidnapped charge any longer. As soon as Willow saw this she knew that she had to use the worst of her magicks to bring down the magical barrier Herumor had placed over the entrance to the tunnel leading down to the Hellmouth and which the Balrog now guarded.

She concentrated and drew all of the energies into her body and mind. Her eyes were the first to turn completely black and then her red hair turned black from the roots to the ends. As her chanting grew louder she could now see that Eönwë had spotted her and the look of astonishment on his face was both amusing and gratifying as she did the unthinkable and gave herself up completely to the black arts. Thick dark purple and blue veins spread over her face and body and when she finally released the power, it not only shattered the barrier but knocked the Balrog and everyone within range off their feet.

ooOoo

**10:15 hours Zulu.. The Redhorn Lodes just outside the entrance to the Foundations of Stone**

Eönwë staggered drunkenly to his feet, but so, unfortunately, so did the Balrog. The barrier was down and now it was time for the creature to show his quality and stop anyone from coming in. It would deal with the Witch behind him later. Of course it didn't realise that the aforesaid Witch was now weaving a spell to slow it down.

A moment later Eönwë was joined by a determined Glorfindel, Finrod and Thranduil. Somewhere not far away he could hear Seth's voice bellowing out clean up orders and he knew that the Lycans were routed. However now the dragons remaining who had not been shot down by the covering fire had taken flight, three of them with massive wingspans and flames that could spray their foe for metres around them. A shout went up and the Herald's head momentarily snapped around in time to see the most wonderful sight of black garbed soldiers with grenade launchers. Each of the three dragons burst into a ball of flame as the grenades from the SAS troopers hit their marks accompanied by deafening cheers from the friendly forces on the ground.

Eönwë turned to face his foe. He knew that time was of the essence, he needed to get down the tunnel, but the Balrog was in the way. He looked at his companions and was about to nod to signal for them all to attack he was interrupted.

"General Matthews sir?"

Eönwë found Dutch Van Breda standing beside him with some unfamiliar equipment. "Sergeant...I cannot wait. I _must _get down into the tunnel..."

"Yes sir. I know sir." Dutch said patiently. "Not meaning to interfere sir, but I think you gentlemen need to leave this creature to me..." He pointed to the tanks and the spray hose. "Liquid Nitrogen sir...Dr Norman came up with it. Thought that if there were any fiery critters down here that the Nitrogen might do the trick."

A huge smile wreathed the Herald's face. "Sergeant, I may very well want to have your babies later. Carry on!"

Dutch chuckled. "Very nice an all Sir, I appreciate your proposal but you're really not my type."

Amidst a burst of laughter from all those standing near, he reached for the nozzle of the spray and flicked a couple of switches on the control console attached to his belt while the Balrog, now unable to move other than very slowly because of Willow's slowing spell was advancing on them. Eönwë ordered everyone to stand back well out of the way and the Sergeant unleashed a spray of liquid nitrogen that covered the creature of smoke and flame from head to foot. In an instant fire had turned to ice. In the intervening moments and gasps of astonishment from everyone else Eönwë slipped unnoticed behind the Balrog who now made a very nice ice statue. Willow was just coming down from her foray into the world of black arts which she usually despised doing these days. He bent down swiftly to make sure she was all right and then sped down the tunnel towards the Hellmouth.

Even before Willow's hair and eyes had turned back to normal she had followed hot on the hells of the Herald. One of her people that she cared about was down there and she wasn't about to let anyone stop her going to his side.

ooOoo

**10:10 hours Zulu...the Chamber of the Seal of Kal**

In the meanwhile Giles had made a very good account of himself with his sword, much better than he had ever imagined he would. A faint thought that he might even actually survive this crossed his mind, but he dismissed it. That was not his appointed fate and he knew it in his very soul. Herumor had, by now, realised that Giles had manoeuvred himself between the Guardian who was holding the little boy, now awake and crying, and him. Giles knew full well that the only way through to the child was through him. Herumor stretched his arm upwards and a long sword wreathed in flame appeared in his hand. He advanced towards Giles who prepared to defend himself and the other two even as it crossed his mind that making a flaming sword appear from nowhere was a pretty neat trick.

However when Herumor was about three feet away from him Giles heard Olorin's voice in his mind once again.

_Eönwë is with you._

To Herumor's surprise Giles quietly laid down his sword and stood, arms outstretched awaiting the cold embrace of steel. He heard Willow's horrified gasp as she realised what he was doing; he saw Eönwë step over the threshold into the cavern. The barrier was down now, weakened by Herumor who was so busy concentrating on Giles and what he was doing and his concentration had wavered enough to allow a now frantic Willow to punch a hole through it. Herumor had his back to the entrance and did now see the danger approaching him from behind. His blade pierced through the tweed and the shirt beneath into flesh and bone and Giles felt an intense cold as it was driven through until it came out the other side. He felt the awful agonising pain as Herumor twisted the sword and then withdrew it dripping with blood...his blood he noticed in some surprise. Giles could feel the life draining out of him. He dropped to his knees and just before the darkness overtook him he heard her scream out.

That moment of sacrifice gave Eönwë all the time he needed to get into position behind Herumor.

"GILES...NOOOOOOO! No, no, no, no!" Grief overtook Willow as she rushed across the seal, heedless of her own safety intending to take his head on her lap. "Giles, don't die, please don't die." But the empty look in his eyes as she reached him told her that she was too late. Nothing could be done. He was gone.

Herumor's head snapped around to her and he whirled the sword just as she had reached the fallen Watcher. He would have taken her head, had another long shining sword not separated his from his body. Eönwë swung his sword in one smooth powerful arc and Herumor's headless corpse slumped onto the seal while his head bounced and rolled to one side of the cavern. There was an immediate immense crashing, grating noise and something that sounded like a roar of white hot rage. The ground rumbled and shook underneath their feet. Loose rocks tumbled down onto the ground. Thranduil found himself holding onto Seth for grim death while others braced themselves up against the rocky walls.

Once the earth had stopped shaking and pitching, Elladan rushed forward and knelt down beside the distraught Willow. She leaned into his chest and sobbed as though her heart was breaking, and indeed it was. She was vaguely aware of many people, but Elladan held her close and then another put their arms around them both and grieved with her. Between them they carried her out to where she could be made comfortable until Eönwë could deal with her. Elrond put her into a deep healing trance and he and his son waited by her side. Jim Moore, bloodied with a deep gash along one arm joined them a little while later as did Hal Kenwood. Elrond's family had finally come home.

None of the people there saw Lord Irmo, Lady Este and Lady Nienna moving among them offering what succour they could.

ooOoo

**The Aftermath**

The end, when it came, was strangely anticlimactic. Eönwë fully realised that had it not been for Annatar intervening in the form of Rupert Giles, the battle may have been won, but the war would have been lost. The Herald sat down beside the mortal remains of his former brother Maia and wept for his sacrifice even as he rejoiced that the ending to the darkness had come. His brother Grigori were rounding up prisoners along with the Elves, soldiers, the Naugrim and the friendly Lycans. Maksim had found a very injured Arras on the field of battle and had carried him to the first aid station that the army medics had set up. He was severely injured but stable and would be transported topside where a helicopter would take him to a military hospital. Celebrimbor had volunteered to go with him, as had Finrod and Glorfindel who would not be separated from each other just yet. There had been no deaths on their side other than that of the mortal Dr Rupert Giles.

Eönwë wiped the tears from his cheeks on his sleeve. Seth was standing nearby when the Herald finally stood up.

"We need to burn Herumor's body and head." He said quietly. He took out a cloth from his belt and wiped the long blade of his sword clean. He then picked up Giles's sword and also wiped that.

Seth's eyes were filled with sympathy. He held out a hand for the sword. "Of course, I will set the Kerubim to carry out that task. Shall I take that?"

Eönwë nodded and handed it over, he felt numb from head to foot. "I suppose it must be returned to the IWSC. It is their property after all and they must also be told of their loss." He turned to the Guardian who had been standing quietly holding the little boy who was now also silent. The chubby toddler held out both grubby arms for Eönwë to take him and the Herald laughed and did so. "I think, young man, that we need to restore you to the arms of your uncle."

A shout of utter joy from the entrance to the Chamber of the Seal announced that the boy's uncle was already there. Jeff sprang through the opening followed by a breaming Draugluin. The little boy crowed with delight at the familiar face and the next minute was enveloped in hugs and kisses. A few short hours later he would be reunited with his overwhelmed, relieved and delighted mother and the rest of his family.

"Nice to see." Joaquim said softly as he and Sariel entered the chamber. "Something good has come out of all this."

Eönwë didn't answer for a moment, the grief for Annatar was still far too near for him. "Yes." He said after a while. "I must admit that I will be glad to get home and cuddle my own family. And for you? I cannot thank you all enough for what you have done."

Sariel laughed. "We were glad to do it. And as for us, we now await a visit from the Timeless Halls. Some will return I think, if we are allowed, but as I understand it they will go back via Valinor and the ministrations of the Lord of Lorien. We shall see. I think perhaps some will avail themselves of the peace of Valinor and then return here, this is our home after all and there is much to do still, I suspect our task is not yet ended. We still have the matter of Semjaza to deal with"

"Yes there is." Eönwë said. He felt a little guilty about keeping Semjaza's current identity and location from his newly found brethren, but Lord Manwe had insisted that he must do so.

_"They will find out soon anyway and then their paths will be separate from yours for a little while." The Elder King had advised him earlier in the day._

A flurry of movement alerted him to the fact that Radagast and Professor Hallam had now arrived on the scene. Radagast went straight to Eönwë and embraced him.

"I am so relieved to see you well my friend. I could not just sit there in safety while the battle raged, so I decided to come here guided by one of the Dwarven engineers and Richard volunteered to come with me." He turned to the small grey robed figure who had now thrown his hood back and revealed himself to be a very ancient Dwarf. "And this is the Guardian of the Hellmouth?"

"Indeed it is." Eönwë replied and gestured for the Dwarf to come closer. "Greetings Master Dwarf. May we know your name?" He asked kindly.

The Dwarf laughed, a harsh and rasping sound indicating that he had not used his vocal chords for a very long time. "It has been so long that I have been here I cannot remember my name my Lord, yet I perceive you as one of the Powers, as are your companions. Am I relieved of my duties now? I am so very, very tired."

"Of _course _you are tired." A new voice interrupted them and both Eönwë and Radagast bowed deeply before an immensely tall powerful, but handsome and vigorous dark haired, dark eyed man who had materialised within the chamber. "And yes it is time for you to go to your rest little one."

Everyone other than Radagast, Eönwë and the little Guardian looked utterly confused and were even more confused when the Dwarf threw himself at the man's feet.

"_Mahal...Mahal._.." He whispered, the tears falling down his cheeks into his white beard. "Have you come for me?"

Aule the Smith laughed, a huge booming laugh which lightened up the cavern and the sorely tried souls of all present. The Grigori recognised one of the higher Ainur immediately and all bowed low before him.

"Yes little one. I am come to fetch you home. Others will now take up the task of guarding this place. You have more than earned your rest." He drew the weeping Dwarf into his cloak and smiled mysteriously at Eönwë and Radagast. "And you are both commanded to come to Máhanaxar, we Valar wish to have words with you. Do not worry about what happens here, you will all be returned in due course... in fact Master Draugluin over there can also come with you. I can see him slinking around in the background!"

Draugluin bowed before Aule. "Your wish is my command my Lord. Will I also be allowed to return? There are Lycans here who will need guidance to adjust to their conditions."

Aule deep set eyes twinkled at him, but he kept his face expressionless. "As to that, I am sure that Lord Manwe will speak with you. We fully realise your concerns, but you do have some explaining to do."

Draugluin bowed deeply to the Vala who immediately dematerialised. Seth, the other Grigori and Thranduil glanced at Eönwë who was standing quietly, his eyes silvered over, denoting that he was now in silent communion with his lord. Eventually his eyes cleared and he smiled, albeit a little wanly.

"I am commanded by Lord Manwe to bring you with me." He said bluntly to Joaquim, Sariel and Seth. "The Valar wish to speak to you."

Joaquim shook his head in confusion. "We cannot walk the Paths of the Moon my friend. And Sariel needs to speak to Eve."

"Not yet." Eönwë smiled mysteriously at them. "But Radagast, Draugluin and I can take you with us. As for speaking with Eve, I do understand. I need to speak to Kim, but rest assured that Lord Manwe has already ensure that they both know that the battle is won, we are all in one piece and will return to them soon."

"All right then." Sariel grinned. "Take us to your leader."

Eönwë spoke quickly to Thranduil. "Are you okay to be left in charge? I understand that young Arras has already been evacuated out accompanied by Celebrimbor."

"Of course, in fact Finrod and Glorfindel have also gone with him, but there is the matter of the young mortal woman who is in a deeply distressed state." Thranduil assented immediately. He was covered in gouts of dark blood and other matter and his long golden hair was streaked with it, yet he still managed to cut an impressive and commanding figure. "Elrond has put her into a deep healing trance for the moment, but I am sure that he can extend it until you return. You _are _coming back?"

Eönwë nodded firmly. "Yes, of course. There is much to do to secure the area. It had originally been assumed that we would hand over the responsibility to the Slayer and her people, but with their Senior Watcher gone..." He left the rest unsaid and Thranduil nodded.

"We will make camp here then, I will set a watch on the Hellmouth and we will wait until you return." Thranduil grinned through the dirt and saluted Eönwë with his sword. The Herald could hear him giving orders in a firm voice and even as he dematerialised along with the other two Maia, taking the three Grigori with him, order was already being established in Moria.

ooOoo


	76. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing of Tolkien's works, however all original characters and story concepts solely belong to me. The Grigori and all documented characters associated with them belong in the public domain. Any references to the original book, The Serpent and the Peacock are copyrighted to A Selby. Any references to the world created by Joss Whedon belong to him.**

**Author Note: **

I would like to thank all of those who have read this story and particularly** Ellie, Chisscientist, lackam, Amebane, Rhyselle** and many others for their encouragement and reviews. I would like also to thank **Fiondil** for his unintentional beta reading, which has been much appreciated through A Singular Honour and Dark Power Arising. I would also like to credit the use of**Maranwë**, who does appear in this chapter and **Manveru** in a previous chapter and the tabern in Valinor called **The Laughing Vala **to** Fiondil. **They both spring from his genius and fertile imagination. I have borrowed Ellie's name for a character at the end of this chapter and I thank her in advance for that!

Yes, poor old Giles. After years of dealing with Buffy and the supernatural world he understands the nature of sacrifice. However there may be a surprise in store for him. Obviously given that he appears in The Hellmouth he doesn't actually die, but what are the terms behind his revival? This final chapter will tell all.

I considered modern ways of fighting something like a Balrog and liquid nitrogen seemed the only possible way to defeat it considering that anything exposed to the substance will instantly freeze. I'm sure that given time the Balrog would have been able to come up with some sort of protection spell, but it wasn't expecting that at all.

The dragons were actually taken out by the grenade launchers. They were literally blown to pieces, chargrilled dragon everywhere! In theory someone like Eönwë would have thought of that and brought some grenade launchers with him, but the finale when it came was so swift that he and the Grigori were actually taken by surprise, which of course was Herumor's intention. It was only General Sheldon who realised that Eönwë probably needed more fire-power than he had at his disposal down in the depths of Moria and acted on that which led to the Special Forces getting involved. It had to be them because they were fully in the know about previous events.

The small losses I felt were justified, mainly because as far as Herumor was concerned the Lycans and associated troops were not actually _meant _to defeat Eönwë and his people, they were there to provide what we used to call in the military, an 'embuggerance factor'. They were a means to an end and the end was distracting Eönwë and his people long enough for Herumor to get to the Seal of Kal, make the sacrifice and open the Hellmouth so that the monsters plus Melkor could come through. If that had happened it would have been all she wrote for humankind. It didn't matter if the Lycans got decimated in the effort to achieve that...this is why the vampires like Maksim withdrew their support and paid the price for that. Unlike the Lycans who bought into Herumor's promises, the vampires didn't believe a word of it. Herumor's actions in placing their revered Thuringwethil didn't endear him to them at all. They didn't trust him, they knew that they would be disposable.

In addition, out of all Eönwë's troops only the humans and the dwarves could actually die. Everyone else was virtually immortal. Their souls would have answered the call of Mandos and given that they were fighting for good, they would have been reborn again anyway. Even the Grigori. Giles was, of course, both human and mortal in that form. However the Valar reserve the right to deal with one of their own. Will the Timeless Halls intervene in the case of Sauron again? Or will the Valar be allowed to pass judgement? We shall see.

This Epilogue chapter will hopefully tie up most loose ends and put everyone where they need to be for the sequel. It will also more or less introduce the next story in the series which is, of course, The Hellmouth. The burning question now is; is Giles now human again? Or is he something else entirely? The thing to remember in my storyverse is that _everything_ is up for grabs and the players both good and bad end up negotiating nothing more an uneasy truce the majority of the time. Good and Evil balance each other out, for one to exist, the other must exist. Hence the interludes between Raguel and Lindsey McDonald happen. Under normal circumstances no dialogue would take place between them, but in order to achieve and maintain balance they are each forced into sleeping with the enemy. If the people who did the fighting knew about that they wouldn't bother to do it. Therefore they are kept in blissful ignorance.

ooOoo

" The quality of mercy is not strained.  
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven  
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:  
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.  
Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes  
The throned monarch better than his crown.  
His scepter shows the force of temporal power,  
The attribute to awe and majesty,  
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings.  
But mercy is above this sceptered sway;  
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings;  
It is an attribute of God himself;  
And earthly power doth then show like God's  
When mercy seasons justice. "

**- William Shakespeare**

**Dark Power Arising**

**Chapter 76 - Epilogue**

**Máhanaxar**

He was floating. Floating in a sea of absolute nothingness and far from being scary, it was actually very soothing. He felt almost newly born with infinite time and possibilities behind him and in front of him. Was this heaven? If it was it was a very peaceful place to be, but with all such experiences something always happens to bring them to an end. The sea of nothingness began to solidify into something resembling a grey mist made of fine chiffon. Not the normal kind of sea mist; there was nothing damp about this mist at all. If he was dead and in heaven, or even halfway between heaven and hell wherever that was, where were all the people who were supposed to be waiting for him? Why wasn't there a huge multitude of his accusers all waiting for the judgement that would undoubtedly send him straight into the Void where Melkor and the rest waited.

For the first time in his floating existence Rupert Giles felt a flutter of fear in his gut. Perhaps the supreme sacrifice had not been enough.

While he was pondering his potential fate the grey mist had slowly cleared and he found that he was standing in a wide avenue of tall cypress trees. The avenue itself disappeared far into the distance. He craned his neck...at least that's what he thought he was doing except that he didn't appear to actually _have_ a neck...but try as he might he couldn't see what lay beyond or above the avenue and something deep within him told him that looking behind was not permitted. So he started to walk...float...or whatever it was he was doing along the avenue. The former Maia in him realised that he was in a spiritual form and slowly the knowledge dawned that he was actually walking to his judgement, which meant that his spirit had answered the call of the Lord of Mandos.

No sooner had the realisation hit him square between his spiritual eyes when he saw a tall figure dressed in deep purple robes, so deep that they were almost black standing at what was obviously the end of the road. His hair was a shining jet-black mane partially looped behind the ears and caught up with a clip which was decorated with obsidian stones, cut and set like diamonds. His handsome features were expressionless, as were his deep amaranthine eyes.

_Namo._

He wasn't sure whether he had uttered that dread name aloud or not, but it didn't seem to matter because the Doomsman of the Valar acknowledged him with a slight nod of the head.

_Art thou here of thy own free will child?_

Rupert nodded and felt a slight irritation by the question. He had virtually committed suicide, died for another, how much more willing did he have to be? The momentary irritation withered when he saw a faint smile pass across the Doomsman's lips and there was an air of patient expectation about his person. Of course, the questions had to be asked and he had to answer...out loud. He wasn't a Maia going for judgement, he was a mortal, this was his soul being judged. He felt all the fight go out of him.

_Yes my Lord _

He replied and Namo stepped to one side and gestured him through the huge polished ebony wood doors into what Giles knew for sure was the Halls of Waiting. As he followed Namo down the corridors of the Halls he was aware that Maia had been stationed along them. He even found he recognised a few, although they gave no sign that he was known to them. He sighed inwardly. That was how it should be. He had committed hideous crimes and gone against everything that a Maia was meant to stand for. He found himself wishing for the sea of nothingness or perhaps a few antacids to quell the fluttering of fear and nausea in his non-existent stomach.

They had, by now, reached the end of one long corridor and for the first time one of the Maia acknowledged him. Maranwë, head Maiar bound to the service of Lord Namo. He inclined his head slightly in greeting and Giles answered with a nod of his own, he couldn't smile, he felt like his entire face was numb. Manveru put his arm out to steady and stop him as the massive doors opened and Giles tried to follow Namo out into what appeared to be blinding sunlight.

_Not yet. _Manveru smiled at him. _We will lead you out once Lord Namo is in position and you are called by the Herald._

We? The fluttering became a distinct desire to vomit. Could one vomit from a spiritual stomach? He looked behind him nervously and saw that four warrior Maia in the service of Lord Manwe had materialised there. He was under guard and he really did feel like throwing up, followed by a nice fainting spell; only the gentle and even kindly pressure of Manveru held him in position and gave him any kind of comfort.

After what felt like an eternity, the figure of Manwe's Herald, a position held for the time being by Olorin, appeared in the sunlit area and he heard his name being called. Maranwë gently urged him forward into the blinding light. He closed his now stinging eyes and painful tears streamed down his cheeks. He was aware of a gentle murmur and a shifting of the light across his eyelids.

"Is that light better for you?"

He would have recognised those calm, deep tones anywhere. He tentatively opened his eyes and realised where he was. He was standing in the Ring of Doom with the Valar seated on their thrones around him. Olorin, dressed in rather unfamiliar looking mail, with a blue surcoat embroidered across the chest with an eagle, the signature of those Maia bound to the Elder King was standing in the middle. He also wore a white cloak and his fair hair hung loose apart from two warrior braids.

Manveru's gentle encouragement led Giles to answer the Elder King's almost solicitous enquiry.

"Yes." To his surprise his voice cracked as he spoke and he realised that while he had been mindspeaking with Namo and Manveru, he was now actually using his voice. "Yes, it is, thank you my Lord." He said in a stronger voice.

Lord Manwe smiled slightly and nodded. "Good." Then he turned to Olorin. "You may continue Olorin."

What was listed afterwards seemed to be a list of all the charges against him and inside he groaned, but outwardly he gritted his teeth and scolded himself. It was time to take his medicine. No bad deed ever goes unpunished. As the list of charges grew longer and longer panic began to set in and to keep himself calm he decided to count the Valar. He frowned, there was one more there than there should be. One of them wasn't sitting on a throne but standing to one side. A Vala he had not seen before. He squinted. Where the hell had they put his damn glasses? But by the time his mind had meandered around all of these inconsequentialities he realised that Olorin had stopped speaking and the Valar were looking expectantly at him. Maranwë whispered in his ear.

"The Herald is asking if you plead guilty or not guilty." There was a distinct note of laughter in the Maia's voice.

Giles cleared his throat. "Oh..um...er..guilty, of course. I am guilty. I did it all and...er...possibly a few things that weren't even listed there."

He was a bit taken aback to hear a ripple of laughter pass around Máhanaxar; even the Valar were smiling slightly and that was the first indication to Giles that there were others present at his judgement. Many others in fact.

Lord Manwe beckoned for Olorin to approach him and they spoke in lowered voices for a couple of minutes. Finally Olorin went to stand in between the Elder King and Lady Varda, the habitual place of the Herald of Manwe.

"I believe we have them all Dr Giles." There was no mistaking the amusement in the Elder King's voice. "You have already paid for part of those crimes in one of the punishment circles of the Timeless Halls and that judgement was passed on you by Lord Eru himself. You have by all accounts acquitted yourself well enough to earn a little parole, shall we call it and they set you a task which again you acquitted yourself well. Since then you have laboured hard and in mortal form in Arda Marred alongside the Champion of the People, she who is called the Slayer."

Giles nodded. "I have my Lord."

"Then this time be aware that Lord Eru has graciously allowed your fea to be sent here to Valinor for judgement in front of your former brethren and those you harmed. Also be aware that there are many present who suffered greatly at your hands and would see justice done"

Giles swallowed painfully. He was royally screwed then, no way were the Elves he had tortured and turned into something aberrant or those he had murdered going to cut him _any_ kind of slack. In fact he would be lucky to go into the Void with all of his parts intact. He could almost see the Doors of Night opening and stood straighter, shoulders back. He suddenly felt very calm. You _did_ those things he told himself. They have a right for vengeance and closure. Be a man and face your fate.

He straightened his shoulders. Never let it be said that Rupert Giles did not go to his punishment without dignity.

Manwe stood up and raised his voice slightly. "We have already heard petitions from those against the defendant. I will ask now...is there anyone at all who will speak on his behalf."

There was a crashing silence and Giles could have sworn that he heard some muttering among the throng of people...Elves...watching.

"I will ask again. Is there _anyone_ who will speak for him."

Again the silence and the Elder King was about to ask for a third time when he heard the doors he had just come through creaking open and a very familiar voice spoke.

"I'll speak for him."

He turned around and saw five women standing there. He almost burst into tears on the spot.

A murmur of astonishment rolled around the watching crowd as the five, obviously from the Secondborn, came into the Ring of Doom. Maranwë walked behind them and placed them directly in front of the Elder King. He then stood to one side of them and Olorin stepped forward again.

"My Lords and ladies, may I present these children of the Edain, recently passed over, all of whom are presently resident in the Halls of Waiting set aside for those of the Secondborn before they move beyond the Circles of the Earth."

The Elder King nodded. "Thank you Olorin." He turned his benevolent gaze on the women. "And who will speak first?"

The women looked at each other, but finally Jenny Calendar stepped forward. "I will speak first." She turned to Giles. "Hello Rupert."

"Jenny..." He whispered in a broken voice and tears trickled down his cheeks. He held both hands out to her and she glanced at Maranwë who nodded. She came over and took his hands, kissing each of his palms. The murmur of astonishment rippled around the Ring of Doom again. "I am so _very_ sorry my love, my_ dearest _love...I would have gladly given my own life to have you alive again."

She smiled at him through her own tears. "I know Rupert...I know." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then she moved away and spoke directly to the Valar. "My name is Jenny Calendar. Rupert was the love of my life and a librarian at the school where I worked. I don't know about this Sauron person. I never met him and I know nothing of what he did. If he committed crimes then it seems to me that he's already been judged by a higher judge than here and has more than done his time, in the punishment place in heaven and down on earth. What I can tell you is that the man I know as Rupert Giles is one of the gentlest, most honourable and kind people I have ever met in my entire life. I've seen him stand up and fight the most hideous of demons and vampires. I've seen him act as a father figure to a group of youngsters whose own fathers were absent. I've seen him weep for those who have fallen." She smiled at Giles who managed a tremulous smile back. "He deserves mercy."

An older woman with curly brown mid length hair and kind eyes then came forward. "My name is Joyce Summers your Majesties...um...not sure how to address you." Maranwë bent over and whispered in her ear, his eyes were twinkling. "Oh...my Lord. Sorry. I am the mother of Buffy Summers who I believe you all know as the Slayer...she er...slays vampires and demons? The Champion of the People?" There was pride in her voice and all of the Valar plus the other Ainur who was there smiled. "Mr Giles was Buffy's Watcher, set to watch over her and teach her and it was something he did particularly well, although I didn't always agree with him. It seemed to me sometimes that Buffy listened to him more than she did to me, but after a while I realised that this was a good thing. He was the best thing to ever happen to her...he was there when her own father was not. He grieved terribly for her when she died...twice...I know that his love for her was that of a father and he was also that to Willow, Xander, my other daughter Dawn and anyone connected to them. I have seen him do some wonderful things, but never once seen him willingly harm anyone, far from it. I agree with Jenny, he has already been punished and has worked through his redemption. He deserves mercy."

With that she stepped back and stood beside Jenny. Her place in front of the Valar was taken by a tall shy looking girl with long straight hair. She was pretty and her manner was gentle. She whispered that her name was Tara McClay and then went straight over to Giles and put her arms around him. When they had embraced and he gently held her at arm's length her distress was plain to see, but her comment to him was heard by all.

"Thank you Giles...for _everything_ you _ever_ did for us. You were the father I didn't have. You watched over us all, not just Buffy. Everything any of us became we became because of you." She turned to the Valar. "He's one of the gentlest men I know. He cares...cared deeply for each and every one of us. When it came time for us to stand on our own two feet he stepped away, but if we needed him he would be there in a shot..for any of us. I won't say I don't care about the things he did as Sauron because they were wrong, but I believe that he knows they were wrong and that that Sauron person is not who he is now. He deserves mercy."

Giles's head was now lowered and he was struggling with his composure, an effort which failed miserably and the tears fell unchecked. One Vala in particular was leaning forward and taking particular notice and interest in everything the women were saying. Giles looked up and met the eyes of his former master, Lord Aule.

Another young woman had taken Tara's place. Or perhaps bounced up to take her place would have been more accurate. She executed a brief curtsey which the Elder King received with a smile and Lady Varda laughed softly.

"My name is Anya Jenkins, Sir...Ma'am...well...um, I did adopt the name Jenkins when I became human."

This caught the interest of another of the Valar, the tall, handsome golden-haired and bearded Tulkas. "You_ became _human child?"

Anya blushed bright red. "Well, yes..I was an ordinary woman in the beginning and then my man cheated on me with some blousy, common barmaid and I wreaked my vengeance on him. D'Hoffryn, who's in charge of all the vengeance demons decided I would make a good one... vengeance demon I mean." She shrugged. "And it was better than scraping out a living, so I accepted and I was a Vengeance Demon for a thousand years. For that long I punished men who were mean on behalf of the women they hurt. Anyhoo...Giles is...well...Giles is an annoying pedantic boring person who likes tweed, silly magic books and cleans his glasses a lot..."

"Thank you Anya..." Giles murmured and sighed. "They're sure to tar and feather me and run me out of town on a rail now."

"Well you _do_..." All of he Valar were actually laughing now and both Maranwë and Olorin were having a hard time keeping straight faces. "But that's not what I meant to say...only that hot looking blond guy over there interrupted my chain of thought... Oh what the hell." She rushed over to him and crushed him in an embrace. For a moment he hesitated then he returned it. "You're a good person. I don't care what you did before. You looked after everyone and Buffy and Dawn will be devastated that you're dead." She looked around at the Valar. "A lot of those who are alive now wouldn't have been if it hadn't been for Giles. He did his best to make sure that all of us were prepared for whatever might come and he let me own half of his magic shop. If you don't let him off you're just plain mean."

There was now open laughter in the Ring of Doom as Anya bounced back and stood beside Maranwë who was blinking rapidly and obviously biting down hard on his bottom lip. All the women looked at her and shook their heads in exasperation.

"_What?_ What did I do?"

"Hot looking blond guy?" Tulkas whispered to Irmo whose shoulders were shaking uncontrollably. "What in the name of Eru did she mean by that?" Anya heard him and gave him a rather lascivious wink. Irmo choked and Este gently slapped his back.

The fifth and final woman...a confident looking young lady with short fashionably bobbed dark hair, a wide smile and a curvaceous figure dressed all in white was the last to go and speak. As she passed Anya and the others she shot a comment out of the corner of her mouth.

"Way to go Anya...if they listen to you he'll be buried deep in some hell dimension never ever to escape."

She smiled winsomely up at the Valar. "Hi...I am Cordelia Chase. I met Giles when he was a loser English librarian at Sunnydale High in California and to be frank I thought that it was _very_ creepy that Buffy, Willow and Xander seemed to _want_ to hang out with him. I got into more trouble when they were around than I ever got into before Giles and Buffy came to Sunnydale. They were just trouble magnets...but then I realised after a while that the trouble had actually been there all along. Kids disappeared all the time...people fell on barbecue forks...the police blamed gangs on PCP.; that's a _bad _drug in case you didn't know. Nobody questioned _any_ of it let alone the police. Parents had a child one day and no child the next. You didn't walk alone when it went dark in Sunnydale and then...it began to stop, slowly. Nobody questioned that either. It was only when I really got involved with Giles and the others that it made me realise that the reason it all stopped was _because_ of Giles, Buffy and the gang. They rescued me from demon snakes, vampires and all kinds of other monsters and through it all Giles was there quietly in the background, making us research, which gave me headaches by the way...supporting Buffy, teaching her, teaching all of us. I'm not sure _any _of us would have survived if he hadn't been there."

She broke off and walked over to Giles. She took his hand. "I'm not going to say that I became a better person because of you, because I'm pretty sure that I was a better person anyway, but I know the things you did..._they_ don't" She waved her hand at the silent Eldar and the dais with the Valar. "They don't know you. I don't know who you were before thousands of years ago. I can only tell them who you are now and you are someone I would trust implicitly with my life...if only I had one. And I am _so_ sorry that you had to die like that." Her voice broke.

Giles reached out and hugged her close to him. "Thank you Cordelia, for _all _of that. I am truly sorry that none of you here today got to live your lives out as you should have. I have lived more than most, even though I probably didn't deserve to and if my existence is to end now then so be it. How's that Higher Being thing working out for you by the way?"

She grinned and shrugged. "Meh...you know...I have my ups and downs...mostly ups...way up...way up _away_ from _anywhere_ that I can do any good. But on the bright side, I don't need to be a slave to fashion any more and the best...no head bursting, mind slamming, wracking visions. Gotta look on the bright side."

"I wish you well my dear." He whispered softly. She smiled at him and joined the others.

As Cordelia passed the dais where the Valar were she spoke. "He deserves mercy. He's one of the good guys. If you can't see that then you _all _need glasses."

When the women had all passed through the doors leading the Halls of Waiting. All of the Valar turned to Namo accusingly. He shrugged and smiled faintly, but made no comment.

All over the Ring of Doom murmurs could be heard. The Eldar who had gone to watch the judgement of a former Maia who had outraged the whole of Arda by his actions and caused immense pain to people within their living memory, even though that memory spanned millennia were now discussing the strange turn of events. Even the Valar themselves looked a little taken aback by the testimony of the five women of the Secondborn. Only the Maiar who were present both in fleshly form and unfleshed were calm. The Ainur Raguel was also very calm and had spoken to no one.

Some whispers said that the testimony of the Secondborn meant nothing, that nobody from the Eldar, the people he had damaged the most, as far as they were concerned, had offered to speak on his behalf.

Olorin stepped into the centre of the ring and held his hand up. All were immediately silent. This could mean that the judgement was to be given. Finally justice would be done. But before Olorin could say anything at all, another voice spoke and everyone looked surprised. The crowd of Eldar at the main entrance to the Ring of Doom parted like the Red Sea and everyone, including the Valar and Maiar were stunned to see a tall, well built dark haired Noldor Elf walk steadily through them until he stood beside Olorin in front of the Valar.

"I would speak for him." He said simply and Namo smiled.

"What is your name child?" Manwe asked, he was greatly intrigued.

"My present name does not matter my Lord, but once upon a time, long ago, during the War of Wrath I was called Thadak." The Noldo replied calmly.

Manwe looked at him quizzically. "Thadak is a name from the Black Speech child."

The Noldo smiled wryly at him. "Aye my Lord. I know. It was the name I was given after I was taken and turned into Orc-kind. I answered the call of Mandos when I died and through the kindness and patience of Lord Namo and Lady Nienna I was eventually rehabilitated in the Halls and reborn into my true form. But I remember Lord Sauron very well. He it was who helped turn me into an abomination."

"And yet you would still speak for him?" Ulmo's voice boomed out. He had been silent up to now, enjoying the show it had to be said. It wasn't often that he allowed himself to be cajoled out of his realm under the waters, but he was glad he'd seen all of this.

The Noldo nodded. "It was not my fault that I was taken and twisted, but once it had been done I committed foul acts in the name of he who I shall not name and his lieutenant who stands before you now. I know full well the influence that our mutual master held over both of us and many others. In a way Sauron was twisted also. I have only heard stories of his acts of cruelty in the Third Age, I was not there myself, but I do know the value and joy of being redeemed and I believe that the quality of mercy should not be strained. It seems to me that this man, for I see that this is what he is now, has been judged by a higher power than all of us here, including yourselves, begging your pardon my Lord. He has laboured hard in the Timeless Halls for much longer than he actually ruled as a Dark Lord and now it is clear to me that he is not as he was. The young Edain woman who spoke last has the right of it. If you cannot see what is clear to me then perhaps he should be returned to Lord Eru for his judgement, for he will find no justice here."

"And what of justice to my wife and children, destroyed by Orcs on the orders of Sauron? He deserves to die." One Elda cried out.

The Noldo turned to look at him. "And do they live now? Are they released from the Halls?"

The Elda flushed a deep red and nodded. "They do and they are." He said reluctantly.

"Then it is only your long memory that keeps this grudge alive. Your loved ones are returned to you and I doubt that they live in the past, but rejoice in their lives now." The Noldo replied calmly. "As for deserving to die; many die who deserve life and many live who deserve death, but it is not for us to judge or choose, that power is reserved for Eru Iluvator only, without whom _none _of us would be alive and breathing. As a very wise person once said...all we can do is do the best with whatever life is given to us." A ghost of a smile passed over Olorin's face. The Noldo once called Thadak walked up to Giles and examined him closely, staring deep into his eyes. "Nay...this man I do not know...I do not see the blackness that was Lord Sauron in him and I knew him better than most. What I see is a humble man who sacrificed himself so that others could live. Let him have peace. He deserves mercy. Just as I was granted mercy."

The Elder King stood and the rest of the Valar followed his suit. "So be it. Rupert Giles, who was called Mairon and then Sauron 'the Abhorred', it is our decision and the will of Eru Iluvator that you shall be returned to life. It is clear to us that your task on Arda is not yet complete. Your charges have much need of your wisdom and guidance. It is also clear to us that you have grown in wisdom and more importantly in humility. That you have repented your actions of so long ago is also clear to us." Lord Manwe winked at the Noldo. "I think my eyesight is probably quite good. I do see what you see."

He broke off as Aulë came over and whispered to him. They had quite a lengthy whispered discussion with Raguel and finally Manwe nodded.

"It is our wish and the wish of Eru Iluvator that you be returned to the fold of your Maiar brethren. A new body will be created for you and you will be granted back the powers you held before. Once that is done you will be returned to Arda Marred to continue your work there. May you use those powers wisely in your efforts with the Slayer and her people. Have you decided by which name you wish to be known?"

Giles was staring at the Elder King in open mouthed astonishment. Whatever he had envisaged it wasn't this. He had expected to be thrown to the wolves in the Void, crushed by Melkor and hurled into the eternal fires of damnation...or perhaps they might have forgiven him and he would have joined Jenny and the others as they moved beyond the Circles of the Earth, but restoration?

"Dr Giles?" Giles gave a start as he realised that the Elder King was addressing him.

"Uh...er...Giles...I prefer to keep the name Rupert Giles." He said vaguely. "I know it's not a very Maia like name, but it's really who I've become."

Lord Manwe smiled. "So be it. And Lord Aule has said that he will accept you back in his service, however you must make your oath to all here that you will conduct yourself to the highest level of loyalty."

"I do...I will." Giles stuttered. "I swear I will serve my Lord Aule, the Valar and Eru to the best of my ability. My loyalty will be unstinting from now on until the end of Arda."

At that point a tall figure dressed in blood spattered army fatigues suddenly materialised in the middle of Máhanaxar. He held a large book and a quill with which he was busily writing down every word Rupert Giles spoke.

"And here is my Herald to record your oath." Lord Manwe twinkled at Eönwë. "You're late...and you look _terrible._"

Eönwë grinned as he made his obeisance to his Lord and the rest of the Valar. "My apologies my lord for my tardiness_ and_ my appearance, I have come straight from the battlefield." The book and quill disappeared into thin air and he stepped over to the hyperventilating Giles. "Welcome back, my brother."

They embraced and then suddenly a thoroughly confused Giles was being hugged and welcomed back by all and sundry. Only a few looked a little askance and their number included Celeborn and Lady Galadriel who had been standing with Arafinwe, Earwen, Elrohir and the rest of her family. The lord and lady looked at each other, then Celeborn shrugged.

"You must do as you see fit." He said coolly. He still could not bring himself to forgive yet.

Galadriel rolled her eyes and went over to Giles. Celeborn saw the man start and then smile after a moment's hesitation. Then he was bowing over the lady's hand and by the look on his face was busy apologising profusely for anything and everything. He had to admit that the man just looked completely flabbergasted and utterly bewildered by the rapid turn of events, but even so his feelings were not changed. He felt he had seen too much to just dismiss it all. Eventually Olorin and Manveru led him away back to the middle of Máhanaxar where his new fana would be created by the Valar. Later on there would be feasting in Eldamas and rejoicing that yet another darkness had been destroyed. Already the bells of the city were tolling and voices were rising in joyous song.

"You have brought the Grigori with you?" Lord Manwe enquired of Eönwë as the Maiar and Olorin started to guide the crowds out of Máhanaxar. What happened next to Giles would take place in front of the Valar and the Maiar only.

Eönwë nodded. "I have indeed. And also Draugluin and Radagast. I left them in the Ante Room in your mansion my Lord, but I should tell you that Lord Sariel is rather anxious to see his family."

Manwe smiled. "As, I have no doubt, are you. We will not keep you long."

Raguel left them. "I will go and have words with them while the arrangements for the new body for Dr Giles are being set up."

"Thank you. And perhaps they should witness this also." Manwe inclined his head to Raguel who nodded and hurried out of the Ring.

ooOoo

**The Headquarters of the International Watchers and Slayers Council**

"Anyone know where Giles is?" Dawn popped her head around the library door where Andrew and a couple of the other junior Watchers were knee deep in research.

Andrew shrugged. "Not seen him in a couple of days. He sent me an email saying that he'd gone with Willow to help some pals of his, not sure where though."

Dawn looked thoughtful. "I wonder where they went. Oh well. I'll just have to wait until he gets back then."

Dawn Summers wasn't the only person wondering where Giles was. Xander Harris had just had some very bad news and not only were Giles and Willow absent, Buffy was in Cleveland, Ohio with Faith, Robin and Kennedy. He was going to have to call a council of war, but was reluctant to do so without two of the main people there. The Buffster was just going to freak out when she heard. He huffed a deep frustrated sigh and was just about to lift the phone to call Buffy and get her and everyone else teleported back when he saw a sleek black limousine drew up outside the manor through the library windows which faced out the front of the building.

The frustrated sigh turned into one of huge relief when he saw Willow's red head bobbing as she jumped out of the car. She was excited about something and talking nineteen to the dozen to another person still in the car and Xander was even more relieved when that person turned out to be Rupert Giles. Xander squinted through the window. Giles looked sort of different...shinier than he usually did. And was he a bit taller?

"Nah..." He shook his head and started to dial the international code. It was just his imagination. Shiny Giles? More like a trick of the light. There was _nothing_ shiny about the G Man. More like tweedy. A familiar voice on the other end of the phone greeted him. "Buffy? Sorry to disturb the reunion Buff, but we got trouble..._big_ trouble."

ooOoo

**A few hours earlier in the Redhorn Lodes, Moria...**

"How is she?" Ereinion dropped to his knees beside Elrond who was sitting on a couple of blankets beside the sleeping form of Willow Rosenberg. Every now and then she whimpered and the crease between her eyebrows deepened.

"Very restless." Elrond said softly, laying a slender long fingered hand on her forehead. "I know not what to tell her if she awakes. Lord Eönwë said to keep her in the healing trance for the time being, but I cannot see what good that will do. The sooner she deals with her grief the better. I understand that she will go to Vevey with Lord Joaquim when he returns and they will remove her memories of this place, although what they will do about her memory of Dr Giles's death, I do not know. She is hardly not going to notice that he's not there when she returns home."

Ereinion put a comforting hand on his friend's arm. "I am quite sure that they will have covered all the bases Elrond. I suspect something is in the wind. Lord Eönwë was behaving most mysteriously before he headed back to Valinor."

Elladan and Hal Kenwood had gone over to help Erestor and Haldir sort out food for everyone along with one of the dig site chefs. Everyone else was involved with clean up duties and Maglor, Maksim and Jim Moore were taking their turn on stag just outside the Hellmouth itself. The entrance to the actual Seal of Kal was now blocked by a magical barrier woven by the Shamans from Vevey. Orgrim had left to visit his engineers down in the Waterworks, Finrod and Glorfindel had not yet returned from the hospital where young Arras had undergone surgery. He was now in a stable condition in ICU and his parents were by his side.

In what was now the command tent Thranduil and Chief Knowles were coordinating everything along with Penemue and Ephraim who was Penemue's head Kerubim. The rest of the High Council of the Grigori had left for Vevey and would await Joaquim and Sariel there although Seth would return to Moria with Eönwë . The trouble was that nobody knew what was going on over in Valinor or why the Valar had asked to see the three Grigori. Apparently Asradel had been given some news about another Grigori called Semjaza and the council needed to meet to discuss this. There was also the question of where to relocate the Naugrim to.

Richard Hallam had also returned to Vevey, more to let his anxious daughters Eve and her sister Sally see that he was in one piece than anything else. After the events in Kurdistan a year earlier they worried about him when he was away. Where once he would have been brusque and impatient with their concerns, he now took care to reassure them. In any case he would also be summoned to the meeting of the Grigori High Council regarding Semjaza since he, himself had been a major player in the events in Kurdistan along with his younger daughter Eve, now the wife of the former Archangel Sariel and the mother of his six month old son. (1)

It had been agreed that the Grigori would set guardians in place on the tunnel leading down to the Hellmouth. They had not said what these guardians would be or what they would look like, but it would be done in the presence of Lord Eönwë, Lord Namo and another called Raguel who were apparently coming from Valinor for that express purpose. Once this was done everyone would return to their usual tasks, including Seth's original team at the dig site which would then be re-opened. The treasures of Moria were about to be explored. Seth was going to head the security team still, but there would be Naugrim with him, Arras being one of them once he was recovered. Glorfindel would rejoin them as would Elrond and Thranduil eventually and Hal Kenwood and Celebrimbor.

Elladan, Ereinion and Maglor were going back to Vevey to act as liaison with the Grigori, Haldir was returning with Elrond and Celebrian who were going back to Valinor mainly for the impending birth of another great, great grandchild, but it was most likely that all three would return and continue to reside with Eönwë and Kim as part of their household. Thranduil was also travelling over to Valinor to finally make the acquaintance of his now very large family courtesy of Legolas and his wife. However he would be returning to take his place on Seth's team once again. Maksim, Nerdanel and Maedhros would remain with Kim and Eönwë in Hampshire. Finrod was going to take a brief leave of absence from the Police and head back to Valinor to see his wife and family, but Amarie had made the surprise announcement that she wanted to return with him to see this Arda everyone insisted on making a fuss about for herself.

The members of 22 SAS Regiment returned to normal duty at Hereford and, as usual, were tight-lipped about their unusual operations in Switzerland. Nate Roscoe would be rejoining them as soon as Draugluin had helped him attain control over his metamorphosis to wolf form, he would be staying at Vevey with his new mentor and Jeff Davies and with the help of the shamans there they would learn how to cope with the wolf within.

Herumor's large corporation and network of associated companies were taken over by a company who had been based in Los Angeles, but whose head office was now located in Italy after a massive earth quake levelled part of the city...a company by the name of Wolfram e Hart and the CEO of that company was named as one Lindsey McDonald, former lawyer in the Los Angeles office. It was debatable whether the companies or their employees were that much better off under the new management, but it was agreed that it wasn't worse at least. Somewhere deep inside the vaults of a large storage company sat the cast iron and silver coffin in which lay the remains of Thuringwethil.

The remaining covens of vampires finally understood that it was safe to come out of their fortresses, but they still kept themselves to themselves. The major difference for them was that the remaining Lycans no longer harassed them. In fact the new Lycan leader had set up a truce with Kiril, head of the now largest coven. They each kept to their own hunting grounds, except in the summer months when the cities of the humans became common ground.

Maksim did not rejoin his coven. Instead he decided to remain with Eönwë and his family. With his newly born soul he would not have fitted in with his own kind any more. However Eönwë had suggested that once communications had been opened up with the Slayer and her people it would be meet if Maksim were to be the liaison between them. However for the moment no communication existed between the two groups since their aims and tasks were not currently related. Maksim was therefore quite content to remain where he was.

Catherine Dalton, the former CIA agent remained in Vevey as part of Joaquim's security staff.

ooOoo

**Three days later in the residence of Major-General Gary Matthews and Mrs Kim Matthews, Hampshire, England.**

Kim sighed in contentment as she burrowed deeper into her husband's shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and pulled her closer. They were sitting on the terrace watching Allie run in circles while Bob the dog barked and tried to catch her jacket. Nerdanel was keeping an eye on them both and Maedhros was currently in London staying with Jan Hall. Erestor had not returned to Valinor with Elrond and Celebrian and was busy in the kitchen making jam with the cherries from the trees in the garden. Haldir was due to return to England in a couple of weeks and so the household would be complete again.

"Do we _have_ to move into the official residence? Wellington House is such a grim looking house." Kim looked up at her husband in appeal.

"I think we might have to my sweet." Eönwë tried to console her. "But I don't take up the GOC post for at least another eight months."

"Hmm." Kim sounded doubtful. She was silent for a little while and then she suddenly up and punched her husband on his arm.

"Ow..._ow._..what was that for?" Eönwë rubbed the sore spot on his forearm.

Kim sat up and waggled a finger at him. "When were you going to tell me?"

Eönwë looked confused. "About the residence?"

"About the fact that I'm pregnant again, with a boy this time." Kim folded her arms and quirked an eyebrow at him.

Eönwë drew her back into his arms. "How do you know, you're only about two weeks along?"

Kim chuckled and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him...a kiss that deepened until it was obvious that both needed a little more than a cuddle. "That's my secret and I'm going to keep it."

"You're pregnant, we shouldn't..." He whispered, but there was laughter and more than a tinge of desire in his voice.

"Who cares? Let's make the most of it. Remember all night crying, late night feeds and nappies?" She whispered back.

"Good point." They got up and started to head towards the stairs and the privacy of their bedroom. They were only halfway across the living room when the air shimmered around them and Eönwë came to a dead halt.

There, in the middle of the living room, looking very strange in modern clothes stood the Elder King and his lady. Eönwë's jaw dropped and Kim just stared. Neither of them wanted to ask Lord Manwe or Lady Varda what they were doing there. It would just sound rude.

Manwe smiled at them. "Now there's a lull in proceedings, Varda and I thought it was time we got to meet and get to know this granddaughter of ours."

"Not to mention the impending appearance of a grandson." Varda the Starkindler's eyes twinkled like her stars at them.

Neither the Herald or his lady could think of a suitable answer.

Erestor stood on the threshold of the living room door, one hand holding a tea tray and the other holding the door handle watching Eönwë and Kim literally gawping at the new arrivals. He didn't make any comment; he just put the tray on a table and turned away muttering to himself about guest rooms and changing sheets.

ooOoo

**Highgate Cemetery, London, England...**

Ellie had no idea why she was so attracted to the cemetery at night. Highgate was a gloomy, sepulchral place even in daylight and then there was that bit in Bram Stoker's Dracula about the vampire lady in the tomb with all the blood around her mouth.

_Stories. _She told herself firmly. It was a pretty neat place really, full of large mausoleums and mysterious vaults. She liked to read the names on the tombs and the dates. Death fascinated her, there was something magnetic and mysterious about the whole thing. She didn't care that all her friends thought she was weird and turning Goth.

Before she had turned thirteen only a few weeks earlier, she had been a normal child with the same interests as her mates at school; boys, clothes, make up and when her parents would allow her to go clubbing. One morning she had woken up and she felt different...stronger somehow. In fact when she had got in the shower this morning and turned that stiff shower tap it had twisted easily and fallen off in her hands. Her father had tutted and said that she didn't know her own strength.

Smells and sound were also much more pronounced. She felt like she could hear the mice in the wainscoting of the old house where they lived and she was convinced that someone was whispering just outside her window. It was around that time that she discovered a new found love for the places of the dead and had taken to slipping out at night and wandering around the cemetery. She had no idea what she was looking for or even what to do with it when she found it...or it found her, but she went anyway.

Then those two people had visited her house and talked to her parents about some school for gifted children. Her Mum and Dad hadn't allowed them to talk to her, even though they asked nicely and she knew that the red haired girl with the pretty face and cute smile had spotted her watching through the upstairs window. They had give Dad a card and told him to call them, but her father had ripped it up. He said that they had got a nerve wanting to take their daughter away from them like that and they'd better not show their faces again otherwise he would call the police on them.

What she didn't know was that by taking that one action, he had sealed her fate.

ooOoo

(1) These events more or less tie in with the beginning of my sequel to the book The Serpent and the Peacock © which is called The Paths of the Moon ©

The third in the series Tales of the Modern Silmarillion with Eönwë, Kim and the gang carries on in the story The Hellmouth.

~FIN~


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